


A Child in the Spring

by Millgirl



Series: Making babies [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Childbirth, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Family Drama, Humor, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millgirl/pseuds/Millgirl
Summary: Part Seventeen of Miranda and Andy's saga in the dream world of my Fifth Dimension AU. They have now been married for twelve months, but Caroline and Cassidy are already wanting a baby brother or sister. Miranda knows things aren't quite that simple to arrange, but it's true, she can tell Andy is definitely getting broody so they'd better get moving.This story is Part One of a new Four Part series. Settle down for some long and leisurely reads here folks!
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: Making babies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947709
Comments: 61
Kudos: 233





	1. Conversations

It was the second Saturday afternoon in May and twelve-year-old Caroline Priestly was uncomfortably sitting at her mother’s feet. She was actually wedged on the floor half under Miranda’s large key-hole desk, drawing on a sketch pad she had resting against her knees.

It was a very awkward location, like a little cave, but she liked to be there, hidden, close to her elusive mother, who rarely sat still for more than ten minutes at once. If Miranda wanted to push her chair back and start pacing about the room, then she’d have to physically prise Caroline out from under her, and she knew her Mom didn’t want to do that. 

The study casement window was open, letting inside the scent of the lilacs and tulips which grew in the little garden Andy had created behind their town-house, and the sunlight bounced off Caroline’s auburn curls and flashed shadows across the paper. Pumpkin the cat, and Tilly, the family’s Bichon Frise, were both snoozing on the rug, and the house was quiet. It was a momentary interlude in otherwise hectic lives. 

............................

Miranda paused in the tedious task of checking through budgets and recounted her blessings, one of which was wrapped around her ankles right now. Caro, as her sister and friends often called her, lived for playing her cello and for her art-work, which more and more frequently these days consisted of pictures of girls in designer outfits. She’d even designed her own bridesmaid’s dress for her Mom’s wedding, twelve months before. Now, even as she drew another dress on the page, she was humming her latest practice piece under her breath and seemed totally absorbed in her sketch. Miranda looked down sideways at her daughter, and thought, not for the first time, what a challenge it was to have such a gifted and enigmatic child. Simply reading her varying moods took more time and energy than she could muster. 

Caroline, the gentler, but also by far the sulkier, of her twin daughters, would sometimes deliberately hide what she was really feeling about any given situation, saying nothing and challenging her mother to guess what was on her mind. This became tedious at times but was just one of her many quirks. She liked to set puzzles for adults to decipher. But today there was no mystery. Caroline was enjoying the rare privilege of having her mother all to herself and had trapped them both into an hour or so of silent togetherness.

Cassidy, her twin sister, on the other hand, was almost the opposite; ideas, information, and opinions spilled out of her without warning and without any self-censoring. Sometimes this landed the girl into very hot water at school, and in front of strangers, so she had to apologize for seeming rude far more often than Caroline ever did. But she was also easier to fathom and also to anticipate. 

Cassie was the extrovert twin, the campaigner, the noisy one, while Caroline was becoming more introverted by the year. Miranda adored them equally, but she had learned it was essential to separate them far more as they became individuals. They no longer tolerated being dressed in matching outfits, they wore their hair in different styles, and they had begun to have separate friends.

It was a very long time ago now that she had last dared to call them her “Bobbsies”, almost as if she had hardly been able to tell them apart. Of course, this had never been true. Miranda had loved them extravagantly as individual babies and still did today, even when she had physically to separate the two girls screaming at each other like banshees or listen to them inanely debating for hours which of the latest boy-bands was the hottest. 

But then they would disarm her by once in a while behaving like angels, playing exquisite piano duets together, and writing her sweet messages she would sometimes find slipped inside her purse, or inside her laptop. This was a little trick they had learned from Andy, their step-Mom, one of many ploys they now used to disarm the ‘dragon’, whenever Miranda’s patience snapped and she reverted into “Monster Mommy” mode for a short while. 

Miranda knew it, but she still treasured and secretly archived every one of the notes she found. She knew she had three absolute blessings in her life, Caroline, Cassidy, and of course Andrea, and she loved them each with a hot and nervous passion, maternal, anxious love for her twins, and an altogether different kind of love for Andrea.

She replaced her reading glasses and turned back to the work she had hoped to complete over the weekend, a dreary accounts review of the various costs of different photoshoots, but it failed to excite. She knew the Runway staff were all in a state of anti-climax a week after the latest Met Gala, the most extravagant and successful ever, and she was still exhausted from the “all-nighters” it had involved.

But the main reason Miranda felt flat and bereft was that Andrea, her young wife, lover and pole-star, was out of town for the entire weekend on a mission to visit her family in Ohio. Andy’s oldest sister Margot now had a second baby, a boy born three months earlier, who was being baptized the next day, and Andy was his godmother, so she would obviously attend the service, and the resulting large family party afterward. 

Normally Miranda and the twins would have gone over to Cincinnati as well, for they were well-loved by everyone who would be present, and were considered an exotic metropolitan adjunct to the family. But the Priestly girls had just recovered from chicken-pox, and Miranda didn’t want to risk them infecting Margot’s little baby, let alone any of the numerous adults present, including Andy’s grandmother, who was now almost eighty-six. Catching shingles from a child with chicken-pox was the last thing Momma needed. 

Miranda was angry with herself for not having exposed her twins to chicken-pox when they were toddlers and thus getting it over with. Then they would have probably simply had a mild fever and a few spots, but this spring they had both suffered badly, and Andy had even stayed home from the Met Gala to nurse them while Miranda had sallied forth and coped with the evening alone. 

The two twelve-year-olds were now past the contagious stage, but Caroline still had a faint echo of a rash, and she wouldn’t send them back to school for another week. Cassidy however, having already missed one sacred hour on a Saturday afternoon when she went for her horse-riding lesson, had refused to miss another, and once she read that horses couldn’t catch chicken-pox from humans, had insisted on going ahead. 

“What time are we picking Cass up?” asked Caroline suddenly from her cave under the desk. 

“At four. We’ll leave here three-thirty. Randall’s Island will be busy this afternoon.” answered Miranda.

“She won’t want to come home,” said Caroline. “She would live over at the riding center all the time if she could.”

“I know. But it makes her very happy, and she’s very good with horses.”

“Mom, you do know what she wants for her birthday next month?”

“Yes, but I’m not buying her a horse. She’s far too young. Maybe if she’s still as keen when you're both fifteen, we might think about it. ”

“Supposing Dad gives her one?”

“He won’t, not if I ask him not to. Anyway haven’t we got enough animals in this family, what with Pumpkin and Tilly?”

Caroline, still hidden from view, said. “Animals maybe, but Cass and I have been talking. You’re not getting any younger Mom…”

“Well, thanks, I do know that!”

“…well, yes, so don’t you think it’s time you gave Andy a baby. You know she’s crazy about them, and everyone is having one these days, everyone except us, that is.”

This was nothing if not up front, not enigmatic or subtle in the slightest! Miranda nearly jumped out of her seat, and wondered how much Caroline actually understood about human procreation. She was sure she’d covered the ground in the “period” talk which Andy had made her give the twins the previous fall. Or did Caro still think they could order one to be delivered by stork or mail-order?

“I’m rather too old, don’t you think, to have another baby at fifty-one.”

Caroline seemed to think this was hilarious. “Not you, Mom, of course. Duh! Andy! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Not everyone is having a baby,” stalled Miranda while she gathered her wits. “And please don’t “Duh” me.”

“Sorry. Well, nearly everyone! Look at Aunty Margot, and how Dad and Cindy had Spencer last year, and even Hannah and Uncle Harry are expecting, aren’t they? I know Andy must feel left out, and she does love babies. You must have seen how she goes completely crazy when she sees any of her nieces or nephews and didn’t you see how she cuddled Spencer when we went up for his first birthday last month? She hardly ever put him down. Cindy had to check our luggage before we left.”

Miranda had seen, and knew Caroline was right. She engaged in the chat more seriously.

“Will you come out from under my feet? We need to talk about this!”

Caroline carefully crawled out and stood up. She put her latest sketch on the desk in front of her mother. 

“What do you think?”

“Beautiful darling, but why not try it in apricot instead of bright orange.”

“Orange is in right now.”

“No, it isn’t, darling, and never will be if I can help it.”

They went back to the original topic of conversation. 

“So, I gather you and Cassie have already been busy discussing childbirth. How would you two really feel about having a baby brother or sister? It would mean huge changes to our family, and certainly impact on your lives. We are all terribly busy as it is, and babies don’t just sit there. They are omnipresent. They cry a lot and have very firm opinions, even if they’re little. Andy’s would certainly do that, knowing its mother’s skills at communication!”

“But that wouldn’t matter, if we all wanted one, would it? And we know Andy wants it.”

“Have you talked it through with her already then? Am I the last person in the family to learn about this discussion?”

“No, not really. But Andy did mention how it might not be a bad idea for us to sound you out before she brings it up properly with you.”

“What, catch me in a mellow mood for once, you mean? Has she put you up to this? Are you all conspiring against me?”

Miranda was smiling, but she was only half-joking. Andy was far closer to the twins in age than she was to her, and it made her feel insecure far too often for her own good.

“No, well, yes, kind of, if you say so. She just didn’t want to bother you before the Met Gala, you being so tired all the time, and tied up with the arrangements, and all that. We talked a bit about it with her while we were in bed with the chicken-pox. You know, now she’s nearly finished her latest book, you want to catch her and pin her down before she starts another. We do want to keep Andy happy, Mom, don’t we?”

Was there still a little insecurity there? Did Caroline still fret that Andy, the undeniable good fairy in their family, might suddenly fly away? 

Miranda’s worst fear had certainly been that, but her first year of marriage, with its almost daily sexual shenanigans, and countless reassuring kisses and murmurings of appreciation had finally calmed her down. Their first anniversary was going to be the very next weekend, and she’d already made secret plans as to how they were going to spend it.

She knew Andy still loved her, and also loved the twins. But was the woman happy? She absolutely had to be happy. If Andy had mentioned she wanted the moon, Miranda knew she would have almost certainly contacted NASA to see if such a thing was possible. She stood up and went over to the window to shut it tight before they left the house. She tried to sound calm, and not panicky. 

“Of course we do, darling. And if Andy wanted me to, and I could send off for a baby in the mail, I’d probably do it immediately. But making a baby is much more complicated than you might think. And pregnancy is never easy, even for someone as fit and strong as Andy.”

Caroline walked over and hugged her, then looked her mother almost straight in the eye, (as she was growing fast now). She said, “You mean, especially complicated if its parents happen to be two women? Yes, I have taken Biology One you know! We’ll simply have to find you both a sperm donor.”

And she laughed and then let her astonished mother push her, none too gently out of the study and down the stairs to their garage to get their car, to collect her sister from her riding lesson. Hearing the word “sperm” erupt from her daughter’s mouth was still sending Miranda’s head into a tail-spin, and it took all her legendary powers of maintaining a poker-face to later supervise her children through their family dinner of chicken and asparagus, and into the normal Saturday evening routine of prep for the week ahead.

Later the same evening, having dithered for hours, trying to discipline herself not to break into Andy’s evening with her parents, but desperate to talk, Miranda picked up her phone and punched in the number she knew by heart, even without speed-dial. The spontaneous response filled her with happiness and relief. 

Andy’s voice, like warm hot chocolate, came down the line. 

“Miranda! Oh, I am so glad you called, darling. I wanted to call you an hour ago, but I didn’t want to break into your Saturday evening with our girls. How are you all? I miss you so much. I can’t believe it’s only been twenty-four hours or so since I last saw you. It feels an age.”

This was like balm to Miranda’s soul, but she tried to play it cool. “Good to hear you miss us a little at least. So how is everybody over there in the corn-belt? Momma, Jenny?”

“They are all fine, just devastated you aren’t here as well. And Margot’s little guy is beyond adorable. You know, at three months, they start really engaging with the world, and he looked at me with those enormous black eyes and gave me a lovely smile.”

“Probably wind.”

“Boring! That’s what they all say, and it’s just not true. He knows his Aunty Andy, I’m sure of it.”

Miranda just mentally slipped into the warm bath of Andy’s cheerful chatter. She often pretended to be impatient with her beloved’s stream of consciousness narratives, but in reality she fed on them. Andy was the only person in the world who was completely open with her, hiding nothing back, and in return Miranda was vulnerable to the point of foolishness. 

But then she remembered Caro’s little lecture from the afternoon. How long had Andy actually been yearning for her own child, and why hadn’t she brought it up with her before? Surely her wife must recall from day one of their marriage, she’d promised her they could one day have children between them, start the second phase of their family. And now was as good a time as any to make it happen. 

“Andrea, stop nattering on and listen. Caroline has been bending my ear today about babies, our possible future babies in fact, and I suspect you know something about this, don’t you?”

She heard Andy pause, and then make a little sound like a faltering ‘Mmn’.

“Don’t you?”

“Yes, maybe. But I was waiting to talk to you until I get back home. It’s just been a hell of a month so far, with the Met Gala, and then the chicken-pox, and having to come over here. Not that I’m unhappy about this of course. But I wanted us to have some space together to think it through quietly. You know there are complications. We have to find the right donor, to begin with.”

“Oh, don’t I know it? Our little Caroline set me straight on that, informing me about the birds and the bees and the fact that we are the same sex. Can you believe she actually used the word “sperm-donor?”

“Bless her! I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that one!”

“I’m pleased you weren’t. She made me blush enough, without you being there to make fun of me.”

“Well, let’s talk properly when I come home on Monday. Try and be home by seven-thirty, and then we can have some quality time together after the girls go to bed.”

“You mean real quality time, or just pretend quality time?” Miranda started to flirt; she couldn’t resist it. And Andrea took up the challenge. 

“I was thinking our own version, - QT plus. You know, where I run you a bath in the tub, and then we sink into it together, and then maybe, if you are really well-behaved, I can give you a massage with that divine new oil you were given by the Armani people last month.”

Miranda sighed. “It sounds passably acceptable. I just hope I can last that long. Do you realize, my love, this is the first time we’ve not slept in the same bed together since our wedding? You’ve accompanied me to all the fashion weeks since I returned to work last September and for all our trips up to Provincetown. I just feel very abandoned right now. You sound so very far away.”

She wasn’t a woman who normally wheedled. But wheedling she was now, to prolong the conversation, and push Andy into playing phone sex with her. As they were apart so rarely, this didn’t normally have to substitute for the real thing.

But tonight it worked a treat. Enticing Andy into sexual fantasy was like stealing candy from a baby, and when Miranda’s silver head finally stopped its over-active brain cells buzzing about, and she fell asleep wrapped around Andy’s pillow as a substitute lover, she was a more relaxed and happier woman than she’d been all weekend. 

But relaxed or not, she knew a seismic shift had just started to happen in their lives. Obviously, Andrea and she were going to now seriously start planning on increasing their family, and Miranda knew, much more than her ever-optimistic and positive young wife, just what this might entail. 

After just one sweet year of marriage, their lives would now be changing again, and once they started, there was no going back. They were going to have to begin the adventure of making babies together. And Caroline had been perfectly correct. The first thing they needed to do was to find a sperm donor!


	2. Chapter 2. Not what she expected.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy goes home to Ohio for her nephew's baptism, but the party afterward leaves a sadly bitter taste.

Chapter 2. Not what she expected.

The baptism service had been lovely, three-month-old James Arthur Wesley Parkes beamed throughout, and even chuckled when the water was sprinkled over his head and ran down his neck. His godmother, Andrea Priestly-Sachs, held him proudly in his little white christening gown as they all posed for pictures afterward and then there was much kissing and hugging all around. 

Andy finally and reluctantly handed James, or Jamie, as he was already being dubbed, back to her sister Margot, who looked as happy and serene as a mother of two, who was also a full-time junior high teacher, could look. Jamie’s Dad, Connor, the local high school football coach, wanted to show his son off to all his relations, so then stepped in to retrieve him and carried him away. 

Andrea and Margot stood together on the Church steps before they all went to across to the adjoining hall for a lunch party, and just enjoyed each other’s company for a few minutes. Margot was Andrea’s eldest sister and her long-term idol in all matters domestic. How she juggled husband, children, job, sport, immaculate house and the ability to still look wonderful at all times was beyond Andy. It defied logic. She’d even lost most of the weight gained with her second child’s birth, and her floral dress, with flamboyant red and white roses splashed across it, looked quite beautiful. 

“You’re looking good, Mommy. Thanks for making me his godmother,” said Andy, smoothing down her Chanel ‘Sunday’ suit, which didn’t often get an airing, and looked rather “Runwayish” in its austerity. 

Margot laughed, “Well at least I know you will always come bearing gifts.”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded! I meant kindness, generosity, grace, bravery, all the virtues you have in abundance. The fact that you are now a multi-millionairess is just a nice by-product.”

“I didn’t marry Miranda for her money!” Andrea was aghast.

“I know you didn’t, honey. Of course not. But as they say, “Don’t marry money, marry where it is, and no-one can deny that there’s a lot of money going into your household daily. Do you even know how much Miranda’s worth?”

“Margot, I love and adore you, but if you say one more word on this subject, I will take a piece of Jamie’s Christening cake and ram it straight between your eyes. It’s a very touchy subject with us, and I spend far too much energy not receiving gifts from Miranda as it is. 

“Our first wedding anniversary is next week, and I’m trying desperately to decide on the right gift, something which I don’t just buy with funds from our joint account. But hey, where’s this coming from? I’ve never known you talk like this before.”

Andy felt all the paradoxes surrounding her union with Miranda threatening to leap up and bite her. There were a lot of people present at this very gathering who wouldn’t understand it. But she knew Margot saw how she’d overstepped the mark and had instantly regretted the stupid comment she’d made. 

Her big sister hugged her and apologized. “I’m sorry. I was totally insensitive.”

They walked towards the church hall where the reception was being catered by the Methodist Ladies Fellowship, and Andy wondered if Margot was very short of funds. US Maternity leave pay was non-existent, and Connor’s family wasn’t wealthy. They both lived on what they earned, and child-care costs must be crippling.

She didn’t know quite how to say it, but she half-whispered. “You are right, of course. I do have more money than sense. If ever you and Connor need some secret help with cash flow problems, you know you can always come to me. Don’t worry about having to talk to Mom or Dad about it.”

Margot hugged her again, and said, “Thanks. It’s great to know you’d be there for us.” But she said nothing more, which was worrying in itself. 

The Christening buffet lunch was nevertheless a big affair. Margot and Connor had invited loads of their teaching friends, and his family alone seemed to include a bus-load of aunties and several rather noisy young cousins. The party must have cost a bomb on food alone. 

Andy felt rather conspicuous, amid all the provincial Ohio crowd and surrounded by people who wouldn’t know a couture label if they saw one. Most of the suits and dresses came from Target as far as she could see, and she wondered if, despite all her best efforts, she was turning into a clothes snob. 

People were looking at her as well, curiously, and not always in a good way. She went over to sit with her parents and take solace from the never-failing love and wisdom coming from her mother. Jenny looked as elegant as ever and also had the great gift of always making one feel the most important person in the room. She pulled Andy over to sit down next to her. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked anxiously. “You’ll disappear before my eyes if you don’t gain a little more weight. Surely Miranda isn’t asking you to diet.”

“Oh, of course not. She bullies me in the other direction. No, it’s just finishing my book. I’ve been so absorbed in it, I forget to stop for lunch most days when I’m home alone, and then by dinner, I’ve lost my appetite. But I’ve just completed the first proper draft, and have sent it off to my editor. I’m climbing back out of the rabbit hole to re-join the world, don’t worry.”

Jenny gave her a clean white plate, and said fiercely, “Go! Join the food line, and bring me some of that chocolate mousse dessert while you’re at it.”

“I thought family is supposed to hang back at these does.”

“Yes, but one can take that idea too far. Now go!”

Andy was obedient and helped herself to various helpings of pasta salad and various quiches and meat pies. The good old Mid-West tradition of over-catering still gave her some choices, but the lunch was very carb-laden, half the salads were doused in mayonnaise, and there were as many sweet desserts as savory first courses.

When she returned to her parents’ table, she sat down and ate what she considered a respectable amount. She couldn’t face the jello-salad with beetroot, however. Some childhood memories were best left where they belonged.

“So how’s it going back home?” her Dad was looking at her with a slightly quizzical expression. “Everyone behaving in New York?”

Andrea knew his lawyer’s trick of sowing doubt where none had existed. “Behaving? Oh yes, behaving as badly as ever, I’m happy to say. I can’t keep up with Miranda, and the twins are growing fast. Caro has an audition for the national children’s orchestra next week and Cassidy is in the Dalton senior Math Club, which is phenomenal for someone who’s only rising twelve. She has to go over to the Senior school for meetings. Everyone there is at least four years her senior.”

“There’s a lot of talent in that family certainly. Maybe Cassie takes after Harry with his gift for math. He’s working with the best brains of the country at Cornell, and Hannah tells us he’s holding his own,” said her father, obviously very proud of all his extended family.

Jenny looked across the room at her newest son-in-law, who also happened to be Miranda’s favorite nephew, and then appreciatively nodded in the direction of Hannah, his wife, her fourth child and second daughter, born barely twelve months before Andrea. Hannah worked in New York for the UN on the East Asian desk and her bump was now definitely showing. She was due in September. As if on cue she turned towards her parents and younger sister and gave them a smile and a wave.

“Such a shame Miranda couldn’t come. I do miss her. Give her my best love when you get back, won’t you?” urged Jenny.

“Of course. And she sends hers, of course.”

Andrea saw Hannah move in the direction of the women’s restrooms and decided to join her. Even though they both lived in New York, chances for a good chat were few and far between. They met just outside the toilets and grinned at each other.

“Great minds!” said Hannah. “I find I’m having to do this every hour at the moment. It’s a pain.”

Andy wanted to quiz her about how they felt, these early months of pregnancy, but obviously Hannah needed the loo, so she said, “Catch you afterward. Let’s talk.” And they both went into adjoining cubicles.

Just then the restroom door swung open and they both heard two more women enter the room.

The ensuing conversation, which they couldn’t help but overhear, was nothing if not surprising.

“Who’s that tall, good-looking young woman who was the baby’s godmother?”

“Oh, she’d Margot’s black sheep sister, the one who high-tailed it off to New York and is married to a woman.”

“A woman! You don’t mean…..?”

“Yes, she’s one of those, you know, queers.”

“But you wouldn’t know…she looked so normal.”

“Well, she certainly isn’t. If I was Connor’s mother I wouldn’t be letting a creature like that within ten feet of my grandson, let alone be its godmother! Aren’t they supposed to swear to “renounce evil”, not embrace it!” 

“Well…If she’s one of the Sachs family, maybe we should make allowances. That mother of Mrs. Sachs was always crazy, and all those kids went out of state to college.”

“Why should that be an excuse? They may carry on like that in New York, but I don’t see why we should put up with it in Ohio. I think it’s totally disgusting.”

Andy perched on the potty with her underwear down but was too traumatized to pee. She sat there in horror. Was this really what the moral matrons of Mid-America thought of gay women? It was like suddenly being stabbed by a total stranger, and she had no idea what to do, apart from burst into tears like a baby.

Hannah, however, had no such hesitation. She pulled the chain noisily and then launched out through the door of her cubicle to catch the women before they went inside the ones at the end.

“Oh, Hi ladies. I couldn’t help hear your conversation. It seems you are damning my favorite sister’s morals and character. She certainly isn’t the black sheep of our family, she’s the star, and she’s married to my aunt by marriage, the most wonderful, most generous, and most inspiring woman in New York! Come out Andy and meet these guests at our party! They need to meet the person they are slandering!”

Andy gulped, but Hannah, like she had when they were children, was helping her to be brave. She stood up, flushed, took a deep breath, channeled Miranda, and emerged. She looked straight into the women’s eyes, and said, “Thank you for that little character assassination. We’ve never met before but I now know exactly what I must do to be a good godmother to Jamie. When he is old enough I shall teach him the difference between right and wrong, between kindness and mercy and a loving spirit, and mean-spirited prejudice and poisonous gossip. And I will do the same for my children, should I be fortunate to have them.”   
She let her eyes bore into the women and watched them quail before her, almost as though they expected her to slap them. Then she turned away and walked towards the door. 

“Come on Hannah, let’s wash our hands somewhere else. This rest-room feels dirty.” And she swept out, five feet ten in her heels, and an undisputed beauty.

Later that evening when Hannah and Harry and Andrea returned home to the Sachs’s little ranch for the night, Hannah wasted no time in telling her parents and her grandmother just what had happened in the rest-room at the party. 

“One of them was especially mean. I could have hit her. But once I pulled her out of the loo, then Andy was magnificent.”

“I didn’t feel magnificent. I just pretended I was Miranda.”

“Well it worked,” continued Hannah. “I saw them scuttle away early. Who were they though? They must have been invited by someone on Connor’s side.”

“I bet one of them had to be either Mavis or Muriel Busby, two of the most miserable witches in Cincinnati,” snorted Momma. Andy’s very feisty grandmother had been prevented from attending the baptism, by another dose of bronchitis. 

“I’d have boxed their ears if I’d been there! They are wonderful examples of married heterosexual bliss I don’t think. Just bitter old women who’ve never been kissed by anyone, male or female. One look from them and the milk will curdle in the pail!”

Andy felt very sore inside, nevertheless. “Why are people so mean about folk they don’t know? I hate to think that there are thousands of other Americans out there who will never accept what Miranda and I are to each other, or understand how very much we love and care for each other, who think we’re evil!”

And with those words, she started to cry, just a little.

“Andy darling, you will never please all the people all of the time. I’m really sorry those women were so mean about you, but their opinion need not affect you. They don’t know you. Just be true to yourself and follow your heart, as you’ve done so far.” 

Andy’s Mom put her arms around her and gave her a long comforting cuddle. This meant, that by the time she called Miranda later, Andrea imagined she could simply tell a fib about the Christening and assure her wife that everything had gone splendidly. 

Fat chance of that, of course! Miranda could read Andy’s tone of voice like a proofreader on the NY Times, picking up every nuance, every slight hesitation, or unspoken expression. 

“My darling, what’s happened?” was almost the second thing she said. “What’s happened to upset you?” So Andy, curled up on her old bed and laying her head back on the pillows, told her the whole little story. She finished, “If Hannah hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I’d have done. It was like a real sucker-punch. Just so unexpected.”

“That was what made it worse for you honey. You have such a loving positive attitude to the world, you expect the best from everyone. I expect the worst, so I’m always pleasantly surprised when things go well and people are polite.”

“You think I should toughen up then and not be so sensitive?”

“You can’t alter nature, sweetie. You were born as soft as butter and you will die the same way. But tell me, how are you going to deal with that little example of homophobia? What’s your response?”

“I thought I’d just lie here and feel awful. Maybe read one of my childhood storybooks to take my mind off it. I can see the Little House on the Prairie staring at me from the bookshelf.”

Miranda sniffed, “Well, stay in the world of fiction if you like. But the author of those Little House books had a far tougher time and was far more hard-edged than her books made out. I would recommend you have a good long talk to Momma tomorrow morning. She’s lived with the reality of homophobia all her life. She’ll give you some backbone.”

“But I want to feel comforted, that’s all!”

“Then hurry home to me, sweetheart. I’ll comfort you all you need.”

And Miranda lowered her voice to a predatory growl and made Andy laugh so much she forgot to be sad. When she finally went to sleep, she had quite recovered from the incident in the ladies’ rest-room. It made her thoughtful, however, even after talking to her grandmother the next morning. 

Momma was great at insults and speaking her mind, and she cheered Andy up and made her feel strong again. But all the way home on the shuttle-flight back to New York, sitting in economy alongside Hannah and Harry, Andy was thinking about the world any future children she had would have to face, and how fragile was the current liberalization of attitudes towards being gay. 

She needed to talk to Miranda, much, much more about the whole idea. But one thing was absolutely clear in her mind. She did, truly, want a baby of her own, and that feeling wasn’t going away.


	3. Being family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy comes home to everyone's relief and Miranda enjoys family life.

“Three nights alone! It must never happen again!”

Miranda dropped her bags and the Book with a thump on the hall table and opened her arms to receive Andy’s embrace. Not so much a gentle hope, more a fierce demand, for as soon as Andy crossed the hall towards her, she pulled her in smartly and took her mouth almost as a punishment, her kiss was so tight and so urgent. 

“Whoa! Careful tiger! Why so angry? You know why I had to go alone, and stay for the weekend.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I was happy about it. And then you were insulted and abused, and I wasn’t there to shoot the lot of them.”

Miranda was far angrier with herself than with Andy, and even more than with the stupid Ohio matrons who had dared to upset her darling girl. She had tracked her progress home all day, demanding updates by texts as to her progress through the airports at each end, and then had insisted on sending Roy to pick her up at JFK.

But idiotic incompetencies kept her far later at Runway than she had wanted, and she knew supper would now be spoiled, waiting for her, no doubt dried up in the oven, and the twins would be already at their homework. The cozy family meal they’d all been expecting, and Andy had wanted, had been aborted. It was all her fault.

“Oh, come on in, Mrs. Grumpy. Cheer up. I can always tell when you haven’t eaten properly.”

Andy took off Miranda’s jacket for her and led her into the kitchen. “Sit down, and see what present I’ve brought you and the girls. She went over to the foot of the stairs and called up.

“Caro, Cassie, come down! Mom’s home and I’ll show you all my present now.”

The sound of a door slamming and four feet running downstairs answered her summons, and the twins burst into the room and fell around Miranda’s neck as though she, not Andy, had been away on a long trip for three days. Miranda hugged them back generously. These days she knew much better how to give and receive love and affection and she kissed each daughter very fondly. 

“No girl-scout meeting tonight, Cassidy?” she asked.

“Of course not! Not when Andy has been away so long and has just come back to us at last!”

Miranda smiled. So she wasn’t the only one in the family with a crush.

Andy took charge. “Sit down all of you. I want you to see this. 

“I brought us all a present, to share”, and she unrolled a large laminated poster. “I saw it in the Cincinnati airport bookstall. It’s a wall-chart to track where we all are, and what we are doing each day, and we can use different color markers for each of us, to ink in some special occasions, like family festivals, birthdays, and your Mom’s and my date-nights.”

“Cool,” said Caroline, though she looked less than impressed. Cassie seemed bemused, and Miranda’s color in her cheeks went slightly pinker than usual.

“No, listen,” said Andy. “This may not look much, but it will be a symbol of a sacred promise we will all make to each other. I want you each to fill in the days and times for the next twelve months which are important to you, and those dates which you mark in red, are red-letter days, which we will all honor, and make sure we all keep free, like Caro’s recital evening next month, for example, and Cassie’s show-jumping competitions. 

“And it also applies to your Mom. Miranda, when you have a really important event at Runway, like a gala, or a fashion week, you can prioritize that and we won’t mind. We’ll understand if you’re back late. But in between these special dates, then there will be lots of green days available, when we can keep our evenings free from seven o’clock onwards, just to be quiet here together. Just be family.”

Miranda tilted her head and looked at the year chart with all those little squares, and at the vignettes of happy hearts and flowers around the edges, denoting domestic harmony. She knew very well what Andy was playing at. This little exercise was very much aimed straight at her. 

She knew she was the guilty party who broke dates and regularly crawled home late. She was the one who far too often left Andy to run the house, even with her exhausting self-driven schedule of writing one book after another. She was the one who had to be reminded of the twins’ school events. But the judgment, and its corrective measure, had been made so gracefully, so cleverly, that she simply acquiesced, smiled, and rolled her eyes heavenwards.

“What color do you want me to use?” she asked. “And where shall we put it?”

“On the fridge. And look I’ve brought these cute little magnets to attach it with.” Andrea pulled out of a bag four appallingly kitsch little animal magnets, which of course the twins loved. 

“I want the kitten!” shouted Caroline. “I’ll have the pony,” said Cassie, as expected. 

“Miranda, you can choose between the puppy and the parrot,” smiled Andy, and Miranda was forced into picking up a ridiculous puppy with a patch over one eye.

“Obviously, the parrot has to be you, darling. Bossy and squawking all the time. And swearing far too much.”

“Touche,” smirked Andy. “Now just sit there, while I serve you up some lasagne and salad. Don’t say a word. I can see you definitely need the carbs!”

The twins fixed the new time-chart up on the fridge and began to fill in some dates, for example, when they were expected to stay with their father, when big things at their school were scheduled, and they were clearly happy to see the following few months begin to fill up. 

Miranda ate her way through the bowl of lasagne and thought what a genius Andy was. The twins were able to see how their schedules, their lives mattered, just as much as the adults, not more but equally. And she would fit in, she would hold up her end of the bargain. 

But then she thought again. This was a calendar for the next twelve months, which meant it also could act as a time-line for Andy’s heartfelt wish for a child. She did some calculations, and worked out, that if they could start the process immediately, then Andy might be lucky enough to conceive by the end of the following month, June, and a baby would be born by the following Easter. There might be a child in the spring. 

Miranda’s heart leaped with a sudden shock of joy. Tolerant as she was of little animals, kittens, puppies and the like, there was nothing she privately adored more, than to hold the tiny hand of a new-born baby, nurse it against her chest, and gently breathe on its little neck. It made her feel young again, just to remember how she’d felt with the twins, astonished with joy. Underneath, Miranda was a complete softie and when it came to infants she could be as enthusiastic as Andy, all the way. 

Late that night, curled up in bed, she opened her arms far more gently and welcomed Andy as she folded herself in beside her. They lay together in blissful contentment, happy to be at peace after what had been a long and tiring day for them both. 

Miranda slid her hand under Andy’s pajama jacket and felt the smooth skin of her chest and the hollows of her neck. 

“Have you recovered from the incident on Sunday?” she murmured.

“Hmm, I suppose so. But it made me worry a little. When there are such hateful people about, should we even try to fit in, I mean, like having a baby, being parents together? How will it be for him or her growing up? Will our child be bullied?”

“Sweetie, many gay couples adopt or conceive children with help. We live in a progressive time, and our set, if you want to call it that, completely accepts all manner of families. The twins want it, I certainly want it, and I know how much motherhood will mean to you, how good you’ll be at it as well.”

“So how do we…you know..?”

Andy was responding to Miranda’s sly progress around her breast and wriggled against her mouth.

“I have a plan.” 

“Oh yes….?”

“Yes. I think I’ve found us the perfect donor.”

“Miranda?”

“Sshh, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I only want you to think about me, about us. Live in the moment.”

There was a long silence, during which Miranda did what she did best, and Andy’s pajamas slipped down to the floor. Then, after she felt Andy moan and come against her practiced hand and mouth, Miranda heard her wife and lover whisper, “Amelia. If I have a girl, I want to call it Amelia. After Momma, the liveliest old lesbian in Ohio. That will show them.”

“Anything you want, darling. It's a pretty name, even if Momma didn't like it. Now, how about you give me some of what I want, eh?”

So Andrea set about trying to make Miranda scream, and succeeded.


	4. Planning a trip to Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Andy combine their first wedding anniversary celebrations with a trip north to visit the Bostonians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the conversations in this chapter will be made more understandable if you can read "The Making of Miranda" and the story later in the series, "Miranda's wedding", especially Chapter 11 beforehand Sorry about this, folks! But if my Mirandy world is new to you, then you have plenty of free reading matter ahead of you!

Chapter 4.

The following morning Miranda declared she was going to arrive an hour late into the office at Runway, and sent word to that effect to Roy, and to the new team of executive assistants who now patrolled her outer office. This was one of the reforms Andy had insisted she put in place after her sabbatical, and a team of three competent, calm, and organized young people, two females and one male, now ran the EIC’s diary and personal business for her. She only had the chaos in the rest of Runway to drive her crazy and raise her blood pressure.

With three people sharing the work, lunch breaks were now longer, the workload was at last humanly achievable and assistants were no longer rudely summoned by using their predecessors’ names. Sanity was at last beginning to prevail, and with three seriously determined young faces waiting for her every morning, Miranda felt somewhat tamed and disarmed.

Coat flinging and bag hurling now seemed rather childish, and making people cry was no longer half as much fun. Her dragon lady persona at work had been a little neutralized, which meant that if she wanted to let off steam and play hard-ball, she had to confine herself to home-life activities. Luckily Andy liked playing fantasy island as much as anyone, and could still surprise her in the bedroom, and shock her into scary delight anywhere in the house, and any time of the day. 

But this morning, Miranda was feeling serious and focused. They needed to talk. As soon as the twins had scurried off to school with Cara, she beckoned Andy into her study and sat down with her in the couple of wing chairs which they had recently bought so they could sit reading together on either side of the open fireplace. 

“Is this about our baby?” asked Andy, deciding to cut to the chase. “I’m so happy if it is.”

“Yes. If you feel ready. I know I am, and I’d like to see it through high school before I’m seventy. Finding a father for it is task number one, and this is what I want to discuss with you today darling.”

Andy stretched out her long legs and looked at her toes. It was a warm day and she wore sandals around golden-tanned feet, with chirpy bronze nail-varnish. Miranda liked her in skirts, all the better for goosing her suddenly whenever she had the chance, and today she wore a swirly number below a peasant blouse which showed off the curve of her breasts. Miranda, even though she had just finished breakfast, could still have eaten her alive.

Andy seemed to be oblivious. “Hmm, I’ve been doing some research myself, and using a donor is more complicated than I thought. It can take months to screen them for genetic problems and other things like HIV. You can choose from hundreds of different profiles though and be quite specific about the sort of guy you want.”

Miranda looked horrified. “There is absolutely no way I am having a child of ours fathered by some unknown medical student in Denmark! Whatever gave you that idea?”

Andrea swallowed and rethought the whole project immediately. “Oh, I just imagined… stupid of me. You mean, we go to someone we know?”

“What was the first thing you said just now? ‘Is this about our baby’? I may be letting you go through the actual undoubted joys of pregnancy, darling, but I am far too directive not to want to be involved physically in some way.”

Andrea sniggered and said in a definitely vulgar way. “Honey, sorry, but I think we both know you simply don’t have the equipment. No dick.”

Miranda lifted her eyes to heaven and said, “And I thought Caroline was the one making inappropriate jokes about this! No of course not, but I have managed to acquire quite a few close male relatives over the last couple of years, so I can see my own DNA coming into the picture, and the twins will then have a biological link to their new sibling. That’s what I’ve been thinking about.”

“You mean Charles or Harry?”

Miranda answered carefully and slowly. “No, not those two, for several reasons, honey. This is all very personal and delicate and I would hate for anyone, including Hannah, to know, so promise me it goes no further. I adore Charles, and Harry my nephew, but Charles is the son not only of my mother, but also of the murderous beast who was my step-father, and I just cannot bear the thought of any scrap of that man’s DNA entering your sacred body. Can you understand? Even though Charles is the sweetest man on the planet, and Harry is a superb individual. He and Hannah will have a lovely child together, I’m sure. But I don’t want him to father yours. I also don’t imagine Hannah would be too keen. Sharing her husband with you.”

“I’m sure you’re right there!”

Andy looked at her with her deep dark eyes and absorbed the residual pain Miranda still carried from her childhood. She remembered the many cruelties and violent acts of her step-father, whereas Charles, who had been adopted almost at birth had no such memories, but instead had been forced to deal with his own demons cutting loose from his homophobic adoptive parents. Miranda was right, she knew, and she fully understood.

Andy’s mind had been pondering about something else though as well. “There’s also the ADS problem. I know Harry and Hannah were very worried he might inherit it from his father John, and went through lots of tests before she got pregnant. But I still wouldn’t want to risk it somehow.”  
Miranda nodded. “I will always be sad that I lost my brother John before I could get to know him. But Charles says he had the sweetest character. If they are both so wonderful, I do worry sometimes if we can be related!”

Andy pulled her attention back into their own challenge. “So if it’s not to be your brother or nephew, then whom?”

“Don’t forget, I have a whole football team of first cousins up in Boston.”

“You mean the red-headed league? Our crazy Irish gang of dental technicians? Miranda!”

Andy was talking about the hilarious but definitely eccentric contingent who had arrived by bus at their wedding day and played for the dancing with their fiddle and accordion band. Charles had discovered them, the children and grandchildren of his mother’s older McCarthy brothers, just before the wedding twelve months previously, and Miranda had proved remarkably unfazed by their totally unfashionable, but cheerful bonhomie.

“Yes. I have been in touch with my cousin Evelyn, and she suggests we both go up to Boston to visit with her and talk it through. She’ll know which of her brothers would be the most likely one to agree.”

“I do feel a bit like a prize heifer being sent to be serviced by a bull.” Andy crossed her eyes and pulled a face.

“Sorry, my love, but this is the one thing you’ve just reminded me I can’t do for you. And we need someone related to me, in good health, and not certifiably crazy. Also, there is a good degree of geographical and emotional distance between us and the Bostonians. We don’t need a lot of psychological complications. We have enough of those sharing the girls with Geoff and Cindy.”

Andy then remembered, “But Della, Cindy’s Mom, isn’t she dating one of the McCarthys still? The leader of the band, who she met at our wedding?”

“Yes,Charlie. He’s Evelyn’s brother and a widower, and he has two sons. Maybe one of them….”

“Miranda, this is crazy. Then if he and Della marry, our baby could be related by marriage to Geoff and Cindy, and to baby Spencer! Talk about ‘Modern Families’!”

“Hmm. No-one said this was going to be uncomplicated. But it could be fun. I’m used to having a houseful of little red-heads, and quite like them actually! But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We have no idea if any of the men in Boston will be suitable or will even agree to do it.”

“No! I may be left having to go to Nigel, or Roy, or hey, even . . .”

But Miranda had leaped out, pulled her hair and shut her mouth for her before she could even finish the sentence.

It was the following weekend before Miranda could arrange their Boston visit, and leave the twins in the competent hands of Cara, who had all the scheduled cello lessons and horse-riding appointments down pat. As they were leaving early on Saturday morning she and Andy tried to explain, in general terms to the twins, what they were hoping to accomplish.

“What will you do, bring some back home with you?” asked Cassidy.

“Bring what back?”

“You know! The stuff. It?”

Miranda felt her cheeks go bright red. “Oh no darling, it’s not at all as simple as that, and won’t happen overnight. But don’t worry, Mom and Andy will take good care of everything. Maybe just tell your friends we’re going up to Massachusetts to visit cousins. No need to go into details. Please?”

“OK, Mom, we get it. Just behave, the two of you. I wish we could go and have the weekend at the Cottage as well.” Caroline gave Andy a kiss, as she mentioned the planned side-trip to Provincetown.

“We’ll be there soon, as soon as your school’s out. But this is our wedding anniversary weekend, so we’re making it a bit special, just the two of us. We’ll be back home on Monday.” 

Andy glanced across at Miranda as she spoke and Miranda read her mind. Goodness, between the twins’ overt and wide-eyed interest in how to make babies, and Andrea’s wicked sparkle in her eyes, it was a wonder she didn’t melt there and then from sexual embarrassment. She brusquely picked up her purse and carry-on luggage and chivvied her wife out of the door. 

Miranda’s heart raced. This was going to be a big weekend in their lives, and its outcome would be life-changing. But her thoughts also ran to those lovely wild Cape Cod beaches, and dining with Andy out by the sea, under the stars. A few strategic phone-calls had set up a very special date-night for them out at their beach cottage, two hours’ drive from Boston, and as long as the caterers found the door-key hidden under the flower-pot, then all would be ready and waiting for them when they reached there in the early evening.


	5. Benjamin Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Andrea go baby-father shopping in Boston and have a big surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early this week, friends, because Mill-girl is having a busy time! A new novel just out and fruit-cakes to make. What do you think of this candidate for the new Dad? Will he be suitable, do you think?

Chapter 5. 

They arrived at Evelyn’s place by eleven, in a hired two-seater Miranda had picked up at the airport. The house was old-style New England, a comfortable family home in an avenue of other comfortable family homes. In her old age Evelyn clung to the furnishing and decorative schemes she’d embraced as a newly-wed bride back in the sixties and seemed to have inherited none of the McCarthy flamboyance and sense of craziness. 

Andy sat down on one of her over-stuffed armchairs and stirred the mug of instant coffee she’d been offered, and looked from one to the other of the cousins. They shared a certain look but otherwise were in complete contrast to one another. Miranda, who gave glamour to any room simply by entering it, was immaculate and sharp in a black and red dress and white jacket, while her first cousin, a bland and friendly soul in a cabbage colored cardigan, blended right into the soft furnishings of her lounge rather like a human cushion.

As they made their opening remarks and reconnected, Andy hoped her baby, when it arrived in the world might inherit Miranda’s beauty and style, and maybe just enough of Evelyn’s gentle serenity to help it sleep through the night. Despite the beige of their surroundings, she could see that Evelyn wasn’t just a dowdy suburbanite, but a sweet woman with an open heart. And try hard as she might, Miranda would never pull off “serene.” 

Evelyn, having thrust large mugs of coffee into both their hands, now sat down and began to speak to them both. 

“I still can’t fully get my head around our being so closely related. It’s like being given a wonderful new friend. Your wedding was the most exciting day of my life, after my own of course, well and after having the children, naturally. But twelve months ago! A whole year has gone by, and here you are! Oh, Miranda, and Andy, it will be such a privilege if I can help you both conceive a child my dears. Children are such a blessing, aren’t they?”

Andy could see Miranda’s mind was jumping about like a jackrabbit inside her neutral “trying to appear normal to the hoi poloi” face. 

“Certainly, Evelyn. They are that. And we do want to add to our family with a baby we can call our own, one we make together. Have you thought over what I asked you? Do you have any ideas as to who among your brothers or other male relations might agree to be a donor?”

Evelyn sipped her own coffee, then put the mug down on the low table beside her, and looked much more business-like.

“Yes, I have thought of little else, and I have come up with a name who might fit the bill. You know my father Charlie, your uncle, had six sons and three daughters. Every one of my brothers inherited his red hair, his ability to play the fiddle, or in some cases, the accordion, like the very devil, but only three managed to avoid slipping under the spell of the demon drink, Charlie Junior, Edmond, and Jacob. Charlie Junior is going out with your sister-in-law, (Miranda and Andrea exchanged puzzled looks until the penny dropped and they worked out that Evelyn was referring to Della, Miranda’s Ex-husband Geoff’s mother-in-law!) and Edmond sadly passed away three years ago.”

Miranda looked worried. Was more family evidence of ill-health about to emerge?

“What caused his death?” she asked quickly. 

“Superstition.”

“Superstition?!”

“Yes, he wouldn’t walk under a ladder propped up on the sidewalk, so he stepped out into the street and was knocked over by a delivery truck. All very sad, but entirely his own fault.”

Evelyn carried on with cheerful stoicism at the demise of her older brother. “Which leaves Jacob.” 

“Jacob?” Andrea felt she should make some noise, simply to enter the conversation. 

“Yes, Jacob. Now Jacob did very well. He avoided the dental technician business the others went in for and qualified as an attorney. He passed the Boston bar exams and now practices in the city here.”

“Are you thinking of him?” asked Miranda, trying to remember Jacob from the plethora of cousins who had cheerfully invaded her wedding day.

“No I’m not, honey. Jacob is stodginess personified. Attends Mass every Sunday, and is married to St Bridget herself, a miserable woman who certainly wouldn’t approve of his going off to make another woman pregnant, even if it was through a fertility clinic. But Jacob’s youngest lad, now he’s another prospect altogether.”

“And he is called…?”

“Benjamin. Like in the Bible. Jacob’s youngest son. You know…”

Andy had forgotten and Miranda had never bothered to know. But they both nodded.

“Well, Benjamin has always been the black sheep of the family.”

“So why…?”

“Let me explain. We have a strong line of homosexuality through our family, and one of the most flamboyant of them all is Benjamin, or Bunny, as we call him. He’s a dress designer in Paris.. "

“Bunny?” Andrea had to laugh despite herself. Trust Miranda to have a second cousin called Bunny who was a dress designer.

“His mother was to blame really. She gave him the nickname when he was a baby, but she never thought he'd turn out as gay as he has. It ruffles all her Catholic feathers, I can tell you. 

“ Didn’t fancy the denture making business at all, did Bunny. He’s been based in France for twenty years and I’m sure he lives with a partner over there. He’d agree I’m sure. He’s got no children and I think he’d consider it an honor. He nearly died of pride when we told him we were all related to Miranda Priestly.”

“But living in Europe would rule him out as a donor surely? He’d have to agree to come back, and then we’ll need lots of blood tests, to rule out any health issues…”

Evelyn smiled triumphantly.

“That’s where it all works. Bunny is in Boston now. He’s come over to open a showroom here. He wants to break into the US fashion scene, and he thought he’d start in his home-town. Any road, you can ask him yourselves. I’ve invited him round for lunch. He’ll be here shortly.”

Andrea could see Miranda felt she was being pushed far too quickly into something she hadn’t had time to consider and make any judgment on. She was a perfectionist, and she needed to know this would be their very best course of action. She was obviously about to raise some objection when the door-bell rang and Evelyn jumped up to answer it. 

Miranda and Andrea also stood up themselves, full of trepidation about the imminent arrival of a possible father for Andrea’s child, but nothing prepared them for the vision who followed his Aunty Evelyn into the room. 

Coming towards Miranda, bowing and then kissing both their hands like some character out of the Palace of Versailles, was an exact replica of Miranda Priestly! He was dressed in the sharp pants suit she’d worn for her wedding, the one which had wowed the guests then, and which had been featured in a six-page spread across the July edition of Runway. 

He had the distinctive white coiffure with her trademark lock of hair falling over his forehead, and his face and make-up! It could have been her! Had he worn a prosthetic mask? His eyes were her sharp piercing blue, and he even had on a pair of ear-rings of the sort she often favored. 

It was a remarkable piece of cross-dressing, and he looked a perfect Miranda Priestly drag-queen tribute artist. Andrea knew her beloved was a gay icon, but here was the best doppelganger ever. Her mouth dropped wide open.

He swept in with just a hint of nervousness in his light, feminine voice.  
“Hello, darlings! What an honor! I can’t believe it. In the flesh! My dream has come true! Miranda, may I just lie down on the floor here and worship you.”

Miranda looked at him, uncharacteristically struck dumb with shock and astonishment. It looked as though this performance could go either way. The two Mirandas looked at each other, the same height, the same pose, the same three-inch heels, almost the same face.

Then Miranda started to laugh, and Andy could see Bunny’s moment of terror that it might not work, that he would infuriate his idol, rather than disarm her, was over. Miranda laughed and laughed, and took both his hands in hers. 

“So…Bunny, Your Aunt Evelyn tells me you’re the black sheep. You look pretty damn good to me any way. Let me introduce you to the woman I adore, Andrea, who means the world to me, so I hope she will to you as well. And it is down to Andrea to explain what we are looking for, and to take it from here.”

Evelyn came forward, wiping her hands on her apron. She had just checked something cooking in the kitchen.

“Well, you’ve pulled off some stunts before this, Bunny. But I must say this is one of your best! Why don’t we discuss the whys and wherefores over a spot of lunch? I’ve made a French quiche and some salad. Would you all like to come through to the dining room?”

So they followed her to the table, and Andrea decided to do as Miranda had suggested and lead them in what would be a most interesting discussion. One Miranda was usually as much as she could cope with, but dealing with two sitting opposite her was pure theatre! 

Once his eccentricities were taken on board, Bunny turned out to be a delightful and sincere applicant for the role of baby-father to Andrea’s future offspring. Apart from bearing a startling resemblance to his second cousin, he was smart, creative, and an original thinker. He also said he’d be prepared to take blood tests for hepatitis C, HIV, and anything else the women wanted. While he had never wanted a child of his own to raise…” we’re not talking Elton John here darlings…”, he said he’d consider it an honor beyond anything he’d ever been awarded, to father Miranda’s baby, and only desired to be kept in touch on an annual basis about its progress in the world.

“Well, Benjamin,” Miranda, as lunch drew to a close. “We’ll talk about it very seriously, and let you know. But please don’t take it to heart if we decide against your kind offer.”

His face fell, and he asked, “But, can I take it, I’m at least on the short-list?” 

Andy looked across at him and decided she did like him/her/whoever he was very much. “Oh, yes, you’re on the short-list. In fact, just at present, you are the short-list. How long will you be in the States?”

“Another month at least,” and then he made a face as though he was screwing himself up to ask Miranda a big favor. “I was wondering, I just wondered, if I sent you through information about my website, and my collection, if you don’t think it’s too hideous that is, whether you might come and officially cut the ribbon on my new studio and showroom in Boston when we open. It would add such cachet.”

Miranda gave him a straight look. “Send me details. I’ll take a look. I haven’t heard of you before, so I can’t promise, but I will give you an honest appraisal. 

“Thank you so much. I hope you like my clothes, and I know I’m quite a new name on the scene. I sell under the label, ‘Le Lapin noir’.”

Miranda looked very taken aback and her eyebrows shot up under her hair. “Then I know you very well, Bunny!” She stressed the first syllable of Bunny almost teasing him. “I am aware of your line. You show promise. I shall certainly come to open the showroom in that case. But on one condition only.”  
“What?”

“That I’m the only Miranda Priestly in the room, all right?”

“Of course! I only made myself up as you today, in homage to the greatest lady of fashion! How did I do, by the way?”

“Hmm, not too bad, I suppose. But I could tell you weren’t me - you smiled far too much. Where did you source the wig, anyway?”

“Oh, Miranda, darling, there are dozens of places online where one can buy a full Miranda Priestly costume. Didn’t you know? We even have M.P. lookalike competitions.”

Miranda seemed to find this very funny. “Perhaps I should enter,” she murmured before Andrea brought her down to earth by whispering, “You’d probably lose, darling, against all these wonderful drag queens, so don’t bother trying.”

And on that silly note, they all kissed and departed, thanking Evelyn for her hospitality. As they stood on the doorstep, waving Bunny-Miranda away, Evelyn said, “He’s my favorite nephew. Sweet boy. But if you’d rather not go quite so camp. I have others I could run by you.”

“No,” said Andy quite definitely. “As long as he can produce the ‘you-know-what’, I’d like to use him. He’s hilarious, and I want my baby to have hilarity in its genes.”

“We’ll be in touch with you and Bunny shortly,” replied Miranda to Evelyn, rounding up their meeting. “But now, Andrea and I are going to Provincetown to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and for that, we can take care of all the necessary activities and arrangements ourselves without any outside help. Come on, girl. Let’s go!”

So Andy followed her to the car, jumped over the passenger door into her seat as they did in films, and let her wife drive her off to a night of high passion, hilarity, and some definite fun and games.


	6. If thou kiss not me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Andy make their decision, exchange gifts and remember poetry. This is a very romantic, and also productive chapter!

“What’s that poem by Shelley? You know, the one about the moonlight kissing the sea?

Miranda looked fondly at her ridiculously beautiful young wife, curled up so comfortably beside her. They were enjoying a last finger of scotch in the swinging hammock on the veranda of their beach cottage. It was a mild and starlit night, and the moon across the glistening water did indeed look as though it was kissing the sea. 

Miranda’s heart was full, with good old-fashioned physical desire, with a triumphant sense of achievement that she had kept Andy in love with her now for a whole twelve months, and with a deep sense of contentment . . . it made her almost too emotional to reply to her question. 

Miranda was famous for being brusque rather than sentimental. Even with Andy, she tried to sustain some pretence of cynicism and world-weary ennui with the foibles of the world, of impatience with any hint of bathos. She tried, but more and more often failed miserably. In her early fifties Miranda was becoming a total softie, and Andrea could wind her round her little finger and easily move her to tears with one whispered word of love. 

They had just enjoyed a delicious anniversary dinner, courtesy of their wedding- venue inn-keepers, Frieda and Mel Carroll, who had provided a meal worthy of the best New York eateries, and on Miranda’s secret instructions had set up the beach cottage veranda as an al fresco dining experience. 

When they had finished consuming the fish entrée, scallops in white wine with truffle butter and asparagus, Miranda had produced a slim little box which she handed across the table. “Happy Anniversary, darling.” Andy opened it to reveal a beautiful gold and black Mont Blanc fountain pen, $1500 dollars in anyone’s money. 

Andrea, who was surprised and delighted, murmured her thanks and appreciation, with the inevitable, “Oh you shouldn’t have….” But one course further on, as they finished their lime and tequila sorbets, she produced her own little parcel, this time with the Cartier name on it, and presented Miranda with a beautiful solitaire sapphire ring.

It was extravagance writ large, in contrast with their matching but modest engagement and wedding rings bought together in the jewelry store in Provincetown. But as she slipped it onto Miranda’s slim middle finger, Andrea smiled with the pride of someone who knew they owned someone very precious, and this was the evidence for all the world to see. 

“To match your eyes,” was all she said.

Miranda was wearing the ring now, twirling it gently in the silver moonlight, and then the verse she been searching for came back to her from her school days. She closed her eyes and recited

“The fountains mingle with the river  
And the rivers with the ocean,  
The winds of heaven mix for ever  
With a sweet emotion;  
Nothing in the world is single;  
All things by a law divine  
In one spirit meet and mingle.  
Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven  
And the waves clasp one another;  
No sister-flower would be forgiven  
If it disdained its brother;  
And the sunlight clasps the earth  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:  
What is all this sweet work worth  
If thou kiss not me?”

“You are brilliant at remembering poems.”

“I’m old enough to have learned them by heart. We did in my day. Some stick, though not enough. But I never really understood what Percy Bysshe meant until I met you. “In one spirit, meet and mingle…” That’s more real for me with you than with anyone else I’ve ever been with.”

“Poor Shelley, he died far too young. So shall we end the evening by deciding to mingle more than our spirits and go with Bunny’s offer to father our baby? I’d like to, if you agree.”

“Yes, I think so. Of course, we will have to take the risk our child will turn out a screaming queen like his father, but there are worse fates. He’s a talented man, and he does look like me, even without all that wig and silly make-up. A second cousin is quite a close match in terms of DNA.”

“Oh, I am sure our baby will be a girl, so no flaming queens, screaming or otherwise. Let’s call Bunny tonight and tell him. I’m sure he’ll be waiting anxiously to find out. Then we can set things up. Can we do it ourselves, at home, or do we have to go into a clinic?”

“I think that’s for us to choose. If the labs clear his samples, then we can take possession of some frozen sperm, calculate your ovulation date and then we can take care of it. I can pop it in while I make love to you one romantic evening.”

“I love the way you come out with these British expressions sometimes like ‘Pop it in.’ ”

“The Cockney in me emerges now and then. I can do a Mrs Potts the teapot as good as Angela Lansbury any day.”

So they made the phone call and listened patiently until the shrieks of joy subsided the other end, then Miranda put on her bossy voice and told Bunny exactly what he had to do, and in what order. She also insisted on calling him Benjamin, to try and impress on him the adult nature of what he was signing up for. 

“We’ll draw up a legally binding contract. My ex-husband will do it for us, and we must all sign it before we commit to anything, er… of a physical nature. But then, if you can identify the most reputable fertility clinic in Boston I’ll pay for the testing process. We are advised to wait 180 days with your sperm in quarantine in case of rare genetic disorders, but I think we’ll forego that.”

“I’m so relieved about that. I don’t think my sperm will want to be six months in quarantine. They will get most terribly lonely.”

“Benjamin, do be serious.”

“Sorry, Miranda. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with. This is just so exciting!”

“Remember, you have to keep this confidential, I absolutely insist on that. No-body has to know apart from you, me and Andrea, understood?”

“But when the baby comes, can’t I at least tell Bruno my partner, and the family? I’ll be such a proud Dad!”

Miranda sighed. Given the chance, she could imagine Bunny would take out a full-page ad in the NYT.

“We’ll see, then and only then. Please honor our wish to make this a private arrangement, at least until we have a safe delivery.”

And he agreed. Miranda had zero faith in his discretion, but she hoped to keep their arrangement out of the tabloids for as long as possible. 

She turned off her phone and plugged it into the charger. Andrea has already moved through into their bedroom and was undressing in the silver starlight reflecting off the sea.

“Come on, my darling,” she called out gently. “What is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?” and Miranda ran to grab her and throw her down on the bed, like an impatient bridegroom on his first night of marriage.

The actual process of working through the next stage of making their baby did go surprisingly easily, partly because Geoff, Miranda’s first ex-husband, was an experienced divorce and family court lawyer, and this wasn’t the first such contract he’d been asked to curate. The legal and financial implications were sorted, and Miranda was relieved Geoff could deal with it, rather than having to use her New York law firm, where there was far more risk of a leak, by some mindless junior obsessed with celebrity or anxious to make some money. 

Then Benjamin ‘Bunny’ McCarthy went into the Boston fertility clinic and did what a man does naturally, and they waited for the tests to come though positively, which they did. Sperm count was high and healthy with no underlying issues, and within three weeks, Miranda was able to take possession of a precious little box of frozen sperm. 

She collected it when she kept her end of the bargain by gracing the opening of Le Lapin Noir’s new showroom in Boston’s central fashion district, and was able to honestly commend his designs. A spread in the July edition of Runway was also his reward, and Bunny’s cup ran over with joy. 

He did claim Miranda as his long-lost cousin, he couldn’t resist that, but at least he didn’t dress up as her again, and his ‘natural’ look was of a golden boy who closely resembled a Greek God. He certainly shared her perfect profile. Andy, who had travelled up to Boston with her, regarded them quietly from the side of the show-room’s opening press-conference. With luck her baby might inherit golden curls and a sweet expression. 

With Bunny, she remained friendly but a little formal, and he did the same. They almost seemed a little shy of each other, which she supposed was natural. Miranda was the connection between them, and they relied on her to manage their relationship, such as it was. 

Andrea realized that using a gay donor would remove any risk that he would physically fancy her and want to invade her life. But the baby would still grow up knowing she had a named father, and that felt right. 

They chose the night of conception a month later just after the middle of of June. Andrea had calculated the days since her last period and guessed ovulation was about to happen, and with a full and glorious moon floating through their bedroom window in Manhattan, they arranged for the twins to stay with Geoff and Cindy, just after the school year had finished, taking Matilda, their little dog with them. 

Apart from Pumpkin, their cat asleep in the kitchen, the town house was theirs alone. At ten o’clock, Miranda took her wife to bed, and quietly undressed her, as she so often loved to do. She had showered and changed out of her working clothes already and was now naked and more than ready for the bedroom, under her blue silk robe. 

Andy lay on the bed, her hair now growing back down past her shoulder blades like Miranda loved it, and let her wife play “doctors and nurses” with her, as she laughingly called it. Miranda’s love of dressing and undressing her never seemed to diminish, and she let the woman strip off her clothes one by one, pressing hot and feverish little kisses along her collar bone, across the hollows in her next, and down her breast bone. Andy’s libido started to climb up into the stratosphere, as she felt Miranda’s hands take her body, and pull it, lift it and generally manhandle it into the position she wanted. 

When Andy was completely naked, Miranda just stood and stared down at her, all kissing paused. 

“Ready?”

Andrea simply nodded up and down, and then said, “Take off your robe.”

Miranda untied the silk belt at her waist and let her robe fall open, and then, fixed by Andrea’s deep chocolate eyes, she slid it backwards off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Andrea gasped. She looked so beautiful, she still had to pinch herself to remind herself that this was no fantasy, that Miranda Priestly was her wife, her lover, her mistress, in every sense of the word.

They regarded each other, equals, so different and yet such a perfect couple. The little box of precious sperm, complete with syringe sat on the bedside table. 

Andrea gazed up into Miranda’s eyes, and whispered, “Come to me, my love, my dear one, my wife, and let’s make a baby.”

And Miranda nodded, and obeyed.


	7. Eleven week blues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not Andy's finest hour. But then she and Miranda are able to see her scan results, and be at the birth of Hannah's first-born. All very exciting!

Andrea staggered out of the ensuite bathroom, her face as grey as the Hudson River in January, and her shoulders hunched over to control the dry heaving spasms which were still rocking her. She looked seriously unwell, and Miranda could see that her brisk, “Well, it’s perfectly normal. Stop moaning. I had seven straight months of it with the twins,” line on the situation wasn’t going to cut it this time. 

Andy groaned and rolled back down onto her side of the bed. “I want to die!” She buried her face in the pillow and growled. “Just go away. I can’t face today. Tell them to cancel everything. Say I’m too ill to be there.”

Miranda looked over at the bedside clock. Seven a.m. it meant she had exactly an hour to turn her miserable waif of a wife into a calm and beautiful icon of literary achievement. What she had on her mind was an important editorial meeting, she knew was set for nine a.m. at the publishers’ offices where Andrea would meet the team responsible for marketing her finished book. It had gone through the editorial processes in double quick time, mainly because Miranda had pulled strings and made some strategic phone calls, but this meeting was crucial, if the book was to come out on schedule.

“I know morning sickness is hell. But it won’t kill you, sweetie, I promise. I’m going to call downstairs to get Cara to make you some hot tea and dry toast. If this carries on beyond the first trimester, there are pills you can take. We can ask Doctor Jones.”

“So where are we now? I’ve almost forgotten,” came a muffled complaint. Honestly, being pregnant had turned Andrea from the family angel of happiness into a whinging cry-baby. Miranda, who had left their bed some minutes before and was drawing back the black-out drapes to let in the September sun, knew she had to get her up and running. A bit of bullying might be needed.  
She had a packed day ahead of her at Runway, as usual, but helping Andrea face the day was her main priority. She picked up her phone and rang down to the kitchen. “Black decaffeinated tea and toast for Andy please,” she asked her right-hand woman in the kitchen. She could hear the twins with her at the breakfast bar. They were all getting on with life as normal, which was a relief.

“I’ll be down in five minutes, but Andy needs a little longer.”

Then she turned back to Andrea. “Stop pretending you don’t know. You are eleven weeks into your forty-week pregnancy. We go for your twelve week scan as planned next Thursday.”

“Forty weeks, that’s ten months. How did they pull the con trick that a pregnancy lasts nine months then?”

Even in her nauseated state, Andy could still show some spirit. But she was clearly feeling weak and depressed. One month of initial bliss that her heart’s desire was going to be granted, and she had conceived at their first attempt, had turned into eight weeks of almost constant nausea, and she was at the end of whatever tether Miranda provided to peg her down to the reality of being pregnant.

“I can’t believe Mom went through this five times,” she groaned. “She must be a saint. And you, how did you cope? Working all the time, and according to Nigel, you never even told them you were pregnant until the twins were almost about to pop.”

“Well, maybe I should have warned you about the less pleasant aspects of giving birth,” said Miranda, tightly. “But you’ll feel better soon. The middle months of pregnancy are the best. The last three are more testing, as you will end up looking and feeling more like a beached whale every day. And we won’t talk about the actual childbirth experience. Nearer the time, you can go to Margot and Hannah for advice on that, bless them.”

Andrea lifted her head from the pillow. She had a thumping headache.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being pathetic. I have so much to be grateful for, and I do want this baby so much. It’s just when you feel ill all the time and you keep chucking every morsel of food back up, you lose your sense of proportion. How will my little baby get any nourishment? Nature just doesn’t make sense.”

Miranda sat down on the bed and gently brushed Andy’s hair back from her face. “Nothing in life makes any sense if we just apply our tiny human minds to it. We have to live by instinct and trust, leave it to the universe to give us the bigger picture.”

Andrea looked up into her calm blue eyes, and blinked. “Is this Miranda Priestly speaking, or have you just taken her place, some philosophical goddess floating down to me from Mount Olympus? I’ve never known you leave anything to the universe, and certainly you aren’t the world’s keenest proponent of instinct and trust.”

“Oh I am, darling. I followed my instincts when it came to you, at every stage. And now I trust you will find your normal cheerful spirit again, and your famous sense of humor, very soon.” 

There was a tap on the door, and when Miranda said, “Come in,” Cara marched in with a tray of perfectly crisp wholemeal toast, and a steaming pot of tea.

“Come on, kiddo,” she said, without stopping to look pityingly at Andrea, still lying against the pillows. “Where’s your fighting spirit? You put something in your stomach and you’ll feel better immediately.”

Andrea looked up at both the older women beside her bed. Between them they certainly packed some psychological muscle, and she knew she was no match for all this cheerful positivity.

“OK, sorry. Pour me a cup of tea, please, Cara, and I’ll try to eat the toast.”

“And you’ll go to your meeting at 9 am,” said Miranda. 

“Um, maybe.”

“No, that wasn’t a question, before you start making excuses!”

And as always, when Andrea knew she was serious, Miranda’s will prevailed. 

Andrea made it to her editorial meeting. She was frankly too frightened of Miranda’s reaction if she didn’t. The old terror from her days as an assistant came back to haunt her just occasionally, and she remembered the nine months she had worked for her as a mere minion with a mixture of joy and residual post- traumatic stress. 

How Miranda had driven her in those days, played games with her, sometimes sadistically torn her into shreds just for the hell of it! But she had emerged, forged into white steel, stronger, more confident, and aware of her inner power. 

Maybe this current nine months and four weeks would do the same. Pregnancy was certainly empowering, and it also connected her with so many millions of other women across the world. They were all going through it. 

The folk at her publishers didn’t even know she was pregnant and she hardly showed yet, so it wasn’t an issue. When she entered the meeting room, she forgot all her earlier nausea and headaches, and interacted with her editor and the team with enthusiasm and focus. 

Miranda was right, work usually solved everything. The book launch was programmed for the following spring, in six months’ time. She wondered if she should mention she was due just about then, but thought it wouldn’t change anything. Even if they pulled the publication date forwards to the New Year, no-one bought books in January or February. 

By the end of the meeting, she felt much more positive, her headache had lifted, and she walked home through the September afternoon full of hope. She hadn’t been in Central Park for a while, and it revived her. It was almost exactly two years since an early morning run through the Park had resulted in her being mugged, and losing her memory for an anxious few months. 

But she could now look back and see the funny side of her recovery from the head injury. The bang on the head had given her concussion and amnesia. As a result she had forgotten all about Miranda and her coming out to each other, and about Miranda deciding to take a sabbatical and proposing to her. She’d forgotten how good they both were at sex. She had thought she was back in June when none of this had happened. It was so embarrassing!

So Miranda had made up outrageous stories about what she had and hadn’t done. She had teased her and cajoled her, courted her once more, nursed her with care and gentleness and made her adore her all over again. Emily’s fear that Miranda would have big second thoughts and toss her aside couldn’t have been farther from the truth.*

Now, they weren’t just lovers, they were married. Miranda, the boss from hell and the centre of her universe, and Andy, the idealistic workaholic assistant were closer than any two women she could think of. She couldn’t imagine life without her. Their hearts beat as one. But Miranda could still scare her, and her goddess could also still be a bossy, irrational and demanding cow, not often, but definitely sometimes. 

It made Andy feel less guilty about the spineless way she had dealt with all the morning sickness. Cindy, the twins’ young step-mother, had had it so badly she had been admitted to hospital at one point with severe dehydration, and her own sisters Margot and Hannah had suffered as well. To use a crude expression, which didn’t exactly fit biologically, Andy knew she just had to grow a pair and get on with it. 

That Monday morning of morning sickness however marked the lowest spot in Andy’s early pregnancy. By the following Thursday, when Miranda accompanied her to the clinic for an ultra-sound scan, she was already feeling better, much less nauseous, and seeing the little shape of her baby growing according to plan in the uterus made her eyes water with happiness. Miranda held her hand as they looked at the screen together. What had been a dream, and then a bit of a nightmare, was now real. She and Miranda, between them, were going to have a baby!

Sexing it accurately would have to wait for another eight weeks, but she now had a due date she might rely on. Her baby was due on or about April 5th. Springtime in New York, with all the fresh flowers, and the warm weather returning would have just begun. Nothing could be more perfect!

They arrived home from the clinic just as the twins were coming in from school, and the girls crowded round the little black and white photo to catch a glimpse. 

“See, that’s its head and that little thing there is a foot,” Andy said to them, as they tried to interpret the fuzzy image.

Caroline was suitably impressed. “Let’s put it up on the fridge, on the date next year when you are having it, to remind Mom, so she keeps the day free!” she said, heavily into their calendar schedule by now. It was covered in orange marker ink, her preferred color.

“I expect it’s one date I won’t likely forget, darling,” said Miranda. 

Then the land-line phone rang, and Cara picked it up. “Hello, Priestly-Sachs residence.” It was not often they had calls on the house phone, as cell-phones were in constant use. 

“Andy, it’s for you. Harry.”

Andrea gave a little squeal and rushed to take the phone. “Is it…?” she asked. “What’s happened? . . . Oh wow! Yes, I’m coming. We both will…”

Miranda obviously guessed what was happening, “No need to tell me. Hannah’s in labour?”

“Yes, her waters broke at noon, and they are in the delivery suite at Presbyterian. We should go. We’re their only family in New York.”

“Go on then,” said Cara. “I’ll stay with the girls. It’s only mac and cheese for dinner anyway and we’ll save you both some for later.” 

So they picked up their purses, and went back down to the garage where Miranda’s Porsche’s engine was still warm.

“Let’s go to welcome another little member of our family,” said Miranda. “This baby would have made my mother a great-grandmother.”

“And me another auntie. It will be so precious.”

“Like all babies should be!”

They were allowed in the hospital suite without gowning up, and found Hannah lying in definite discomfort on a narrow hospital bed, with Harry pacing up and down beside her.

“Calm down, dear,” said his aunt Miranda. “You won’t help by marching about like this. Just sit quietly with your wife and try to take her mind off the contractions. How often are they coming now, Hannah?”

“Arghh, every four minutes or so, and they are screwing up my insides.

“What have they given you to help?”

“A little Pethidine. I said I didn’t want an epidural. I wanted to be present in the moment. What an idiot I was!”

“Just go with it. Try not to fight it.”

Miranda sat down beside the bed, and allowed Andrea to come forward to hold her sister’s hand and distract her with a little chat. 

“I had my twelve week scan this afternoon. It was wonderful to see the baby for the first time. As I get bigger, can I borrow your maternity outfits?”

“Yes, and you can keep them,” groaned Hannah with a wince. “I’m never going through this again. Six hours of labor and I’m hardly dilated.”

Then another big contraction grabbed her and she definitely began to holler. 

Miranda looked at Harry’s stricken face, and chuckled. “Yes, you’re to blame. They don’t call it labor for nothing. But it looks as though things are moving along now. We’ll retreat and make room for the midwives and doctors.”

Andy accompanied her down to the hospital restaurant. Normally Miranda wouldn’t have countenanced eating in such a place, but she knew Andy had fasted all day, and she needed something, at least. There was some not too disgusting Mac’n’cheese on offer, and she grabbed a tray and pushed Andy in front of her down the line of hot food counters. Cara had put the idea into her mind.

“Come on, it might be a long night. You need to eat, and I do too.” So they collected macaroni cheese, two salads and some black coffees, and retreated to a corner table. Andy yet again marvelled at how Miranda could surprise her by acting like a normal human being at times. Here she was, eating cafeteria food at five dollars a plate, and not even sneering at it. She realised just how much better she felt herself, because she could pick up a fork and spear a pile of the gooey mixture into her mouth without turning a hair. 

Hannah’s baby finally came at midnight, yelling his little head off, and sounding very angry at having to spend so long struggling to get out. Miranda and Andy had long since returned upstairs to the delivery suite, and were sitting together, both reading eBooks and occasionally holding each other’s hand and kissing their fingers. It was lucky the gynaecological wards were quiet that evening, so their gentle making out wasn’t proving a shock to any other waiting relatives.

Harry was in the birthing room now with Hannah, as she’d been moved through as the birth became imminent. But so far he hadn’t been dragged out by his heels having fainted, and normally polite Hannah’s yells and curses sounded robust and productive.

When they finally heard a new-born baby cry, Miranda and Andy exchanged happy smiles, and within minutes, Harry put his head round the door and said, “Come and see!”

The women went in, and saw a tiny boy with bright red hair and excellent lung capacity being wrapped up in a white cotton blanket and placed on his mother’s breast. He immediately gripped on to her nipple and started to suck, as if to say, “I haven’t had a square meal in weeks!”

Miranda couldn’t help laugh at him. “He reminds me of Cassidy when she was born. No hesitation whatsoever! Caroline was much more cautious. Well done, both of you. He’s a beautiful baby.”

Objectively he wasn’t, of course. He resembled a purple frog. But Andy was totally entranced. “Look at him,” she crooned. “Look at his tiny little toes and fingers! He’s gorgeous!”

“What will you call him?” asked Miranda.  
“John Richard Albert,” replied Harry, “After my father, and Hannah’s Dad and Albert Einstein, my hero.”

“Oh, Johnny, Johnny, welcome to earth,” whispered Andy. “I’m so glad we could be here. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Hannah looked exhausted after twelve hours in labor, but also ecstatically happy. 

“You’ll be doing it too in a few months, and they can grow up together.”

“We’ll go home now,” said Miranda, “and leave you in peace. Do you want me to call your parents? They must be desperate to know all’s well.”

“Yes, please do,” whispered Hannah  
.  
“Wait a sec then,” said Andy and she took out her phone. “I’ll take a picture of you all.” 

So Jennie and Richard Sachs, and Momma as well, as she had also sat up late with them to wait for news, not only received a most welcome phone call, but also a little picture of their newest addition to the family, along with his happy parents. 

An hour or so later, when they had driven home, tiptoed up through the sleeping house and after her normal routine of makeup removal and brushing all the lacquer out of her hair, Miranda slid thankfully into bed next to Andrea.

“Do you think my baby could hear Johnny being born?”

“I don’t know. We must check when their hearing develops but I don’t think it’s yet.”

“I must ask Caro to play her cello for her when she can hear.”

“So you still think you’re expecting a daughter?”

“Yes I do, instinct and trust, you know?”

Miranda laughed, and gathered her wife in for a cuddle. 

“Goodnight darling. We might grab five hours or so of sleep, before tomorrow starts.” 

Andrea felt like heaven in her arms. She put down her hand and gently caressed the soft rise of her wife’s expanding belly.

“I feel much more like sex, now I’ve stopped throwing up so much,” said Andy, encouragingly.

“Oh? That’s nice . . .” murmured Miranda. “But enough excitement for one day…” and she was fast asleep. Helping to make babies, even when they weren’t your own, was such an exhausting business!

*Told in “A Bang on the Head.”


	8. A special bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah, Andy and Margot meet for a sisters weekend. One for all and all for one.

Miranda had been right, of course. Pregnancy did get easier the longer the weeks passed. Andy glanced at her shadowy reflection in the department store window, as she stopped to look at an impressive collection of strollers and car-seats on display, and couldn’t help noticing how much she was now leaning backward as she walked. This was to counteract the weight of little Amelia’s large bump growing ever bigger in front of her. Her waist had disappeared and her breasts had almost doubled in size.

She was now more than six months pregnant, not quite at the beached whale stage, but well on the way. Subsequent scans had proved her right; she was expecting a daughter, and the name was a foregone conclusion.

With her sister Hannah, beside her, she pushed through the crowds and went inside the store. The Christmas lights were lit everywhere, and downtown Cincinnati was bursting at the seams with shoppers. 

Hannah, and Andy, along with Hannah’s three-month-old baby boy Johnny, had flown to Ohio to have a ‘sisters’ Christmas shopping weekend with their sister Margot and her two children, three-year-old Rose-Marie and baby Jamie. Connor, Margot’s husband, would be away at some football coaches’ convention for two nights, so it was a girls-only event, one to which Margot had said she was really looking forward.

They’d both arrived on the Friday shuttle from New York but Margot had to teach until 3 pm, so Hannah and Andy were amusing themselves for a few hours, window shopping around the city center department stores. Hannah was still on four months’ maternity leave, as the UN had a far more realistic and caring protocol than most employers in the USA, but she would return in the New Year to her demanding job on the East Asian desk. This little jaunt was a real treat for them all.

“What did Miranda think about you joining us?” asked Hannah, pushing Johnny in front of her in a rear-facing stroller. She didn’t like the idea of exposing him to all the exhaust fumes, slobber of passing dogs, and greetings from enthusiastic strangers if he faced forwards into the on-coming traffic.

“She never much likes me being away, but she understands,” said Andy. “Anyway, Runway has swallowed her whole again in these last weeks running up to Christmas. I do think I married a woman with an obsessive-compulsive disorder when it comes to that magazine. Even when things are going well, she likes to invent a crisis. It’s a matter of how to manage the disease, rather than trying to cure it completely.”

“What about that cute family calendar on your fridge I saw in your kitchen? How is that working for the work/life balance?”

“Three of us are adhering to it just fine. One member of the family has won far fewer gold stars I’m afraid. When I go home on Sunday, we are going to have to have a little show-down. Miranda is already in big trouble with the twins, so I am making sure she comes with me to all their end of term events, whatever happens. And then, Charles and George are joining us for Christmas itself, so I’m insisting she takes a full week off for the holiday itself.”

“Maybe you need to impose a system of forfeits for your habitual offender.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What does Miranda really like to do, that you could deny her?”

“Well, I can think of something, for sure . . . The only trouble is, I like doing it too!”

They both laughed, and then Hannah changed the subject, “Andy, have you noticed anything different about our Margot lately?”

Andy jumped a little. Hannah had brought up a subject she’d been worrying about herself.

“Yes, actually. She seemed quite unlike her usual cheerful self at Thanksgiving. And as far back as Jamie’s christening , she mentioned how tight she and Connor were for cash. I think they are struggling a tad.”

“Well, let’s do a bit of fishing while we’re there. I hate to think of her worried, and you and I are both much better off than she is. She must find that difficult to swallow at times when she was our big sister and led the way into the workplace.”

“Teachers will never get paid what they are worth,” said Andy, “And I expect they are both still paying off student loans, on top of everything else. Come on, let’s buy a basket of goodies to supplement whatever she has prepared for our weekend. I’m not drinking, but I don’t mind treating you two to a decent bottle of plonk.”

“I’m not drinking either,” said Hannah. “I’m still breastfeeding Johnny and want to keep it going as long as I can. I may even express my milk with a breast pump and send it with him into day-care when he goes.”

“Poor little guy. It seems so young for him to have to go to nursery.”

“I know, Harry and I have tried to find a sensible alternative, but we can’t see one. There’s a good child-care facility attached to Cornell University, so Harry could drop him off there, or even more suitably, one for UN staff children at the bottom of my building, but I want him to have one-to-one attention with someone I trust completely.”

“I know what you mean. And look at him, isn’t he completely adorable?”

They both began to idolize the little redheaded boy, whose bright blue eyes were taking in the whole world now, and then walked together with him around the food department of the department store.

When a taxi deposited them at Morgot’s suburban tract home, at the opposite end of the city from where her parents lived, they unloaded Johnny’s gear and went up the drive together. It was the only house in the avenue not sporting a heavy canopy of Christmas lights and did look a little bit forlorn. The paintwork was peeling and the front yard needed a trim, for sure. No one seemed to be home, even though it was way past four o’clock. And the two girls wondered what had happened to their big sister. 

Hannah was just about to pull out her phone, when Margot’s car came roaring down the street and swung into the drive beside them. The back seat had two small children in it, and Margot jumped out to greet them as soon as she pulled up.

They all came together in a joint hug as she said, “I’m so sorry! I had this annoying parent who wanted a lengthy conference with me, and so I was much later leaving school than I planned. Then I had to pick these two little monsters up from day-care. The joys of a working mother!”

She did look worn-out, as though it had been a hard week, not just a hard day. “We’ve been rehearsing the Christmas pageant. Teaching carols to a class of thirty seven year olds is not for the faint-hearted, I can tell you. Anyway, do come on in. Andy, do you think you could scoop up your godson, while I help Rosie out of her seat?”

Andy was only too happy to oblige. Jamie was such a happy baby and rewarded her with a gorgeous smile. His brown skin and dark curly hair followed his Dad’s coloring, and he had the biggest dimples, and longest curliest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a child. 

Big sister Rosie, once she was released, rushed around the car and kissed both her aunties and then delivered a smacking kiss to her cousin Johnny. At three, she was just the age to adore playing with all babies. She would have picked him up if she could have managed it.

They all went inside and settled down to a time of sisterly domesticity, chatting as the children were fed and bathed, read to, and eventually tucked up in bed. Margot had borrowed a travel cot for Johnny, and while he didn’t seem to like the idea at all, to begin with, after ten minutes of yelling, he fell fast asleep, exhausted by the early start, the flight and all the shopping, as he had only slept for an hour or so. 

Then the three sisters collapsed together on the sofa in the living room, and Margot laid out the supper she had managed to prepare earlier in the week. Hannah and Andy presented her with their little hamper of goodies, and while there was no alcohol, as Margot also was still giving Janie night feeds at the breast, she made up three decadent hot chocolates, complete with chocolate swizzle sticks, mini-marshmallows, and a swirl of cream for each mug. She handed them round and they each sipped in almost orgasmic pleasure.

By nine they were all in a state of semi-stupor.

“I’ve never felt so tired as I do these days,” said Andy. “Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?”

Margot grimaced. “You don’t know the meaning of torture till you go months without sleep. I don’t think I’ve had a straight seven hours in my bed in the last four years. And when I do get the chance to sleep, then I toss and turn all night worrying about everything.”

“Worrying about what, hon?” asked Hannah, picking up the cue.

Margot closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. Andy could see a few grey hairs appearing within the thick brunette bob.

“Money, mostly. It seems we took out the wrong kind of mortgage when we bought this house. The bank has suddenly hiked our interest payments up by 500 dollars a month, without notice. We were pretty fully extended already, and this will tip us into real debt, not just on luxury items but meeting essential payments. You would think two full-time teachers could manage, but we can’t, and we can’t sell up and down-size because everyone is selling rather than buying at the moment. I tell you, 2008 is going to be a horrible year, not just for us, but for loads of our friends. Lots of young families are in the same boat as us.”

“When did you learn about this?” asked Andrea, alarmed. She knew about ends not meeting from her earliest days in New York, when the frankly risible salary offered to assistants at Runway had left her living way below the breadline. 

“In March, but it only really began to kick in in May. That was why I was so off with you at the Christening. I was so anxious. You see everyone else in the family is flying along financially. I have one brother who’s a doctor, another who’s a lawyer, and married to a lawyer, a sister who is a section leader for the United Nations, and now my littlest sister is married to a multi-millionaire Magazine editor, with a seven-figure salary, and an original Rubens on the wall!”

“It’s only a little drawing,” protested Andy, thinking of their lady with the fat bottom. “But, darling Margot, I do totally get your point. And we’re here to help, all for one and one for all, you know, like the three Musketeers.” 

“I feel dreadful for even mentioning it, but I don’t want to get into deeper debt. Connor was picking up extra work with the Little League at weekends, but that seems to have dried up, and I don’t want to have to ask Mom and Dad.”

“You know they would help, if you asked them,” said Hannah. “ I bet they do know, or at least suspect, but haven’t wanted to interfere. But upfront Margot, how much are you short every month? How much do you need to balance the budget.”

“Our outgoings are currently seven hundred a month higher than our income,” sighed Margot. “We’ve tried to economize everywhere we could. Food, clothes, family trips, all cut to a minimum. You can see we haven’t even lit up the house this year, or had the bushes trimmed. I adore Jamie, but he was an unexpected gift from God, and it means most of my salary goes on child-care costs, now double what they were.” 

“That is something any self-respecting god-mother would help with,” said Andy. “Look, let me cover Jamie's costs in child care, at least until he goes to elementary school in five or six years. It will be an absolute joy, and I can easily spare the cash right now. I’ve done some very well-paid articles for the New Yorker, and for Vanity Fair this year, so we don’t even have to touch Miranda’s stash.”

“And what Andy pays to keep Jamie in the manner to which he should be accustomed, let me do the same for Rosie,” chimed in Hannah, just as positively.

Margot’s eyes filled with tears. She looked so relieved, and yet mortified she had had to ask.

“Oh, I don’t know what to say, to either of you. It’s such a generous offer, but Connor will be angry I even brought it up.”

“Oh, pooh to Connor. He can deal with it. Sisters have a special bond. We have a relationship unlike any other, and Andy and I will always look up to you as our inspiration, Margot. Just say Yes. Then we can all relax and have some fun this weekend.”

So Margot gulped down her pride and said yes.

“And then, on Saturday morning, instead of dragging the children round the shops in all the Christmas crowds, we worked together on the front yard, and put up a little line of budget twinkly lights we bought at the local gas- station and made a holly wreath for the front door. By the time we left, Margot looked so much better, so much less stressed. She was back almost to her old self. You know, Miranda, it would be a tragedy if she was forced to give up teaching and look for a better paying job. She’s an inspired educator.”

Andy was telling Miranda all about their sisterly weekend, lying on their long sofa late on Sunday evening, with her head in Miranda’s lap, and a small pillow under the small of her aching back. 

“Do you think I did the right thing, taking on Jamie’s child care costs? I didn’t want to appear condescending.”

“Of course, you did the right thing. And Margot is right. I think 2008 is going to be a tough year for everyone. I’m following the markets, and this bubble will have to burst very soon. The banks are dangerously over-extended and beginning to panic. I think lots of people will lose their homes. It will affect the profitability of publications like Runway as well.”

“You know Sunday evenings are a Runway free zone, don’t you? We don’t mention the word.”

“Sshh, if you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, don’t bother. I have had a thorough telling-off from both Caroline and Cassidy while you were away. They accused me of shamefully neglecting you, and metaphorically gave me a good spanking. So I have promised to be a reformed character from now on.”

Miranda ran her fingers through Andy’s waves, and then rubbed her side of her face very gently.

Andy liked it, a lot. Then she said, “Hannah suggested I should instigate some forfeits for when you come in later than midnight, or forget the twins’ parent-teacher conferences.”

“Oh yes, like what, reciting a nursery rhyme standing on one leg, or real punishment?”

“Not sure. I’m still thinking about it . . . Would you like to be punished, and if so, in what form? Hmm?”

Miranda’s eyes went wide like a cat’s, and her voice dropped to a purr.

“What about a good spanking, only not exactly metaphorically?” she suggested very quietly. 

“But you would have to be very bad indeed, to warrant that. Are you?”

“I feel very bad tonight. I might be planning to stay out late all next week. Who’s to know?”

“And so, you’d like to be punished first, is that what you are suggesting?” 

“Be prepared well ahead, that’s always been my motto.”

“Miranda, you are outrageous.”

“Am I? All I know is that I have missed you like hell all weekend, and I can’t do to you what I’d like, because of your current condition. I think you’ve reached the stage in your pregnancy where we have to be a little more inventive.”

“Come upstairs then, and let’s see what we can come up with.”

And they retired to their bedroom together. All one can say is that no nursery rhymes were recited, by either party, whether on one leg, or two. And Miranda slept on her stomach all night, but with a very happy smile across her beautiful features.


	9. The Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the label says! Emily and Hannah decide to throw Andy a Baby Shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late, folks. I finished writing my latest novel, and went a bit brain dead for a day or two. But here we are. I'll try and get back on track by next Tuesday. If you want to follow Mill Girl in the real world, check in with an email address to Maggie McIntyre's facebook page, and you can receive my newsletters etc.

“Yes, I know she said she didn’t want one, but she would say that, wouldn’t she? We both know what Andy’s like. I think we should just go ahead and arrange it anyway.”

Emily pulled over her desk calendar as she spoke into her phone and ran an elegantly polished nail down the squares for the following few weeks. 

“How about March 15th? That will be a good day for a Baby Shower, They’ll both be back from Paris by then.”

On the other end of the line, Hannah hoisted her own baby up onto her hip and went to consult her calendar on the kitchen wall. 

“It’s a Sunday, right? That should work. All the weekdays are impossible now I’m back at work. Can I ask you to mastermind it, Em, though? My brain is still like porridge after finishing maternity leave and I’m even struggling to remember my Japanese. But I’ll do my share, if you just take charge.”

Emily sighed, but was relieved. She liked being in charge of running things, and she also liked surprising people. She knew Andrea would get a kick out of an unexpected Baby Shower, whatever silly protests she made, and it would be a chance to get together all the old crowd from Runway. 

Hannah and she had become close friends since they had shared in the same crazy wedding day with Andy and Miranda, nearly two years before. It was a day never to be forgotten which still gave Emily’s lovely wife, Serena, nightmares. After all, few brides expect to see their father chased out of the ceremony by armed police and the FBI, and being forced to escape up in the sky by helicopter. 

Nigel had made a big joke of it, protesting that his best man speech wasn’t so bad, surely? But it was still a sore point with Serena. Emily’s father, minister of religion, retired drug dealer and illegal alien, had looked the model of respectability in comparison to her own miscreant parent! 

“Where have you and Seri both been, anyway?” asked Hannah. “We haven’t see you around for weeks.”

It was true; Emily had just returned from a long absence away from her post as a fashion editor at Runway. Serena now held a similar position at Vanity Fair. But they had both taken unpaid leave to attend to urgent family business.

Emily hesitated before replying, but decided to tell her and said, “We both attended London Fashion Week, then we went to Angola.”

“Angola! Why ever there?”

“Seri went to meet with her father, who lives there now. He’s still wanted by police across the civilized world, so decamped to Africa, with his bodyguards, and various staff. In Angola they have no extradition treaties and they speak Portuguese. Her step-mother divorced him, not surprisingly, so it was the first chance Seri’s had to talk to him after our wedding. And it was rather emotional all round. But we kept the trip quiet, and still need to keep his location a secret, so please, Hannah, don’t breathe a word about it to a soul.”

“Of course I won’t. But back to the Baby Shower. Can you sort out a venue and guest list? We should warn Miranda first though, just to make sure Andy isn’t double booked, and that she can get her there.”

“I’ll see to it. I’m calling Miranda on her private line now.”

“Good luck with that then. Bye, hon.”

“Bye.”

Miranda lay in bed next to Andrea late that evening, and cuddled her as best she could, which wasn’t easy. Her wife was on the home run in terms of being pregnant, but little Amelia was hardly giving her mother an hour’s peace, doing her energetic kicking exercises and causing a great deal of heartburn as she pressed herself up against Andy’s ribs.

Miranda suffered broken nights as well, for Andy was taking up most of their bed, and just couldn’t get comfortable. There was a lot of tossing and turning going on. But she wouldn’t let Andy go to sleep in the guest room as she suggested. Disturbed or not, Miranda never slept as well and her nights were never as restful as when she had the warm presence and gentle sound of her lover breathing beside her.

But now Andy groaned, rolled over and then said, “Sorry honey. You go to sleep. I’m going to sit up and read for a while. I can’t seem to settle tonight.”

Miranda reached up and switched on the bedside lamp. “Only a few weeks left, love. I can easily sit up with you if you like, talk or play scrabble or something.”

“No, you need your sleep. There’s no point in both of us pacing the floor. I just need to work off my adrenalin somehow.”

Miranda wondered if she should tell Andy about the plans for her Baby Shower. Emily had told her to keep it a secret, but she thought it might cheer Andy up to know what her sister and best friend were planning. Anyway, like most people, she enjoyed breaking harmless confidences.

“Emily called me earlier. She and Serena have returned from West Africa.”

“Oh yes? On that supposed-to-be secret mission to visit Dastardly Dad?”

“Yes. She sounded fine, not struck down with malaria, anyway. But she and Hannah between them have cooked up a surprise party for you, and they wanted me to make sure you turn up for it.”

“A surprise party?”

Andy always loved parties, but she felt like a mountain at the moment, and certainly didn’t think she was up to dancing a fandango.

“A baby shower.” Miranda’s voice spoke volumes. Obviously she considered baby showers in extremely bad taste.

“What did you say?”

“I said very little. You have taught me well. I made vaguely encouraging noises. But I hope Emily and Hannah don’t have in mind some vulgar affair where everyone brings you sets of cheap baby clothes, and Walgreen gift baskets of earbuds and talcum powder.”

“Don’t be so snobby Matilda. Walgreen’s have some good stuff. And I would be grateful for some talcum powder right now.”

“Or floppy bunnies.”

“Hey, Amelia would love a floppy bunny, you old killjoy. It might remind her who her father is. So when is this baby shower going to be? And where?”

“They are thinking March 15th, but that is very close to your due date. Amelia might have arrived already." 

“Oh, she won’t,” said Andy airily. “I’m sure she‘s going to be a very organised little soul and stick to our schedule. Where will the gathering be?”

“Apparently they are thinking of Nigel’s place, of all inappropriate settings for an overdose of feminine hormones. He is very keen to host it so he can meet up with us all again.”

Andy looked at Miranda straight. “Oh, so Miss ‘Does not approve of baby showers’, we’re talking “Us” now, are we? You will deign to grace this tacky event with your queenly presence?”

“Of course. Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. It’s my baby too, remember? I’m determined to get my share of any free face-wipes and diapers just as much as you might be.”

Andy chuckled and reached across her own huge belly to give Miranda a sweet kiss. “Of course it’s your baby, darling. And we’re in this together. Why would I ever think otherwise?” 

By the time day of the baby shower came round, Andy felt the size of a bus, and was convinced she was carrying triplets. She’d outgrown all of Hannah’s loaned maternity outfits weeks before, and so had reluctantly allowed Miranda to kit her out in some ridiculously expensive designer mother-to-be, one-off pieces.

If she survived the birth of her first baby, she decided these fine clothes would definitely be stored away for when she expected its future little brothers and sisters. They were far too good for just a few weeks’ use, and perfect for her colouring.

It was a sunny Sunday in mid-March, and the birds in Central Park were singing as they prepared their nests. They were also singing in the leafy part of Brooklyn where Nigel and Douglas had recently bought a proper two-storey house. Miranda had driven Andy over in the Lexus, as she was now too big to fit into the Porsche, and they stopped in front of the old brown building to see an extravagant display of balloons and ribbons decorating its side gate. 

Judging by the number of vehicles already pulled up on the sidewalk outside, the event was destined to end up on the society pages of all of Runway’s rivals, and Andy wouldn’t put it past Serena to have brought in a photographer to catch shots of the guests for Vanity Fair. She really did not enjoy being the centre of attention, and tried unsuccessfully to hide behind Miranda, but as soon as they crossed the threshold, the place erupted with applause and six people at once came forward to embrace her.

Two of them were their darling twins, who bounded up to her and fell on her like long-lost children thrown out into the cold, rather than having simply spent a day or two with their father and family. Geoff followed close behind them, giving Andy a big kiss, and Miranda a small one, and then Andy saw what looked like half of Boston with him as well. Cindy was there, looking great, slim, ridiculously young, happy, and fit, and Spencer was now a lively little toddler, rising two. Then Della, Cindy’s Mom, brought up the rear. 

“Can’t resist these sorts of parties,” she said, crushing Miranda with a hug, and then kissing Andy. Andy looked behind Della to see if Charlie McCarthy, Miranda’s cousin and Benjamin’s uncle, was also in attendance, but Della read her mind and said, “Charlie’s got a band gig up in Boston, but he sends his love.” 

Cindy stroked Andy’s arm. “You poor thing. I remember looking and feeling exactly like you at this stage, but trust me, it will be over soon.”

Andy nodded, with a resigned sigh. “I guess so. It’s hard to imagine though. I remember that you were so poorly though, with pre-eclampsia. At least I’ve avoided that so far. But Cindy, thank you for coming all this way. I never expected you to.”

“My God, Andrea, there are more people here than at the amazing Christmas party you and Miranda hosted two years’ back! I think there are some folk from California, and your people from Ohio are here as well.”

“Ohio?” Andy’s head spun round to see the most exciting vision in the world. Yes, she wasn’t dreaming. Her mom and dad were in the room, along with the best grandmother in the world, Momma, all drinking Nigel’s fruit Cider cup and waving at her. She pushed through the crowds and pulled them into her arms for a huge group hug.

“This is crazy. The place is packed. I was expecting six or so girlfriends at most. Why are you all here?”

“We’ve come to give you moral support, darling,” said Jenny her mother, kissing her fondly. “We are staying with Hannah and Harry, for the rest of the week as well, so we can enjoy Johnny. And Momma has met up with Lee and Gloria, your friends from the west coast. They are going to hit the art galleries tomorrow. It’s kind of a Spring Break for us all.”

“How long has Miranda known you were coming?” asked Andy, rather fiercely.

“Oh, since the beginning. I think she wanted to leave some things as a secret for you after spilling the beans about the party early on.”

Andy looked across to Miranda who was entertaining another little circle, mainly of their Runway colleagues and Douglas, her most devoted fan, and caught her eye. Miranda winked at her and gave a little grin, and Andy immediately forgave her. 

Momma looked well, and Andy told her so. She’d put on the blue linen wedding outfit Miranda had bought her, which now constituted her “best clothes” and which she’d worn to Lee and Gloria’s wedding as well. After the latest spell of bronchitis Andy had been really worried about her grandmother, but here she was, as right as rain again. 

Then Nigel swept across to them, bearing a ‘mocktail’ for Andy, and gave her a cautious hug round her bump. He was now Editor in Chief of Gangway, the men’s version of Runway, and loving it. Married life with Douglas obviously suited him as well, though he had put on a pound or two in the last year.

“Darling Six, you look divine! Vast, but divine! Now come and meet all your guests. No-one could stay away. It’s the Baby Shower of the season!”

Whether Miranda had approved of the idea or not, they both certainly enjoyed the Sunday afternoon soiree. Emily had organized it as an elegant, rather alcoholic afternoon tea in the English tradition, and caterers circulated with cucumber sandwiches, asparagus rolls, made with the season’s fresh asparagus, devilled eggs, and little meringues which melted in the mouth. The world and his wife did seem to be there, so the old idea of a female only gathering had obviously been ditched. But the presents piling up on the dining room table were forming an ever expanding pile. 

By four o’clock, Andy felt she had to say something, a big thank you at least for all the lovely baby themed gifts. She noticed one huge blue elephant, which was designed to provide a sleeping cushion and cuddly toy, with a tag from Margot and Connor sending their love and apologies for not being able to join the party. 

She tinkled a fork against her glass and the room went quiet. Andy stood up as straight as she could and said, “Dear, dear people. Thank you so much, on behalf of Miranda and myself, for all the trouble you have taken to organize this afternoon and for all your lovely gifts. Not just for themselves, which of course we and Amelia will love, but also as a sign of your care and friendship. I feel completely blessed. It will be another three weeks before I can use them all, but they will be cherished and appreciated. Thanks again.”

She stopped speaking, and everyone gave another small round of applause. Miranda came towards her, and beckoned her forwards through the throng of people. 

“A gracious word of thanks from a beautiful soul. As always, you know what to say. I don’t deserve you.” She expected Andrea to move in her direction, so she could bury her hands in those chestnut waves and draw her in for a kiss. But Andy seemed to have suddenly turned to stone. She just stood there staring, as her eyes grew wider and wider. 

“Honey, what’s the matter? What have I said?” Miranda asked, beginning to feel nervous. Then Andy grabbed her hand and whispered, “Nothing. You have said nothing. But don’t look down!”

Naturally, instead, Miranda did the opposite, and bit her lip as she watched a significant puddle of liquid begin to seep out onto Nigel’s thick cream wool carpet from between Andy’s legs. They exchanged looks, which in some books might be called ‘meaningful’, and then Miranda hissed “Stay right there. Don’t move!” And she went to find Andy’s mother, Jenny. Jenny always knew what to do in an emergency, and Miranda thought this little development qualified for that title exactly. 

So, yes, Emily’s choice of date had been quite correct. It was a good day for a Baby Shower. The only problem was that Amelia had obviously grown tired of waiting and wanted to come to the party as well!


	10. So not forty weeks after all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Action.

Andy obediently did as Miranda had told her, and stood motionless next to the table where all her baby shower presents were assembled. She took a deep breath and felt two distinct sensations battle for supremacy in her brain, mortification on making a mess on Nigel’s new carpet, and an excited anticipation for what would happen next.

She felt she couldn’t have chosen a more embarrassing time and place for her waters to break, but hey, wasn’t this the whole point of the event? To extol the virtues of motherhood, and celebrate the imminent arrival of one’s baby seemed to be the raison d’être of the whole baby shower thing. If she had to cope with it, then everyone else must also surely need to go with the flow. 

Thankfully, the actual ‘flow’ seemed to have stopped now. She just felt as though she’d wet her panties. But the practice uterine contractions she’d been having for several days, now did seem to be getting rather more intense.

It only took seconds for Jenny, Hannah and Emily to crowd round her like a posse of medieval midwives. They seemed to have each cottoned on simultaneously to what had happened as Miranda had rushed across the room with an expression on her face of such concern that she looked nothing like her normal impassive self. She was flapping about and dithering like a normal woman, no, in fact more than that. Miranda was starting to do an excellent impersonation of a nervous husband.

To fill the void where calm decisions needed to be made, Andy’s Mom said. “So, time to move off to hospital maybe? Miranda, you go and fetch your car and bring it to the door, and I’ll come out through the side gate with Andy. Emily, will you call Andy’s gynaecology unit and warn them we’re on the way please. And Hannah…”

“Yes, Mom. Don’t worry Andy,” said Hannah, “I’ll make your apologies to everyone, and clean up the little puddle. Just slip away through the garden room, and let us take care of everything here. I’ll collect all your presents and explain the situation to Nigel and Douglas.”

So with three wise women, and one distracted wife, aiding and abetting her, Andy’s exit from the baby shower was accomplished without anyone else being aware of her absence until she’d gone. 

As she heard the sound of Miranda’s car accelerate off down the avenue, Hannah went up to Nigel and whispered in his ear. “Sorry, the guest of honour has had to depart. Their baby’s on its way. Would you like to make a little announcement to explain?”

Nigel looked shocked, and then triumphant. He loved anything theatrical, and Six had done him proud on that score. The baby-shower had already morphed from being an elegant tea-party into something resembling a speak-easy tea-dance in the Depression, with the tea-cups now filling up with pink gin, and the conversation getting far too giggly and silly for a sedate Sunday afternoon.

He copied Andy’s earlier intervention into the chatter, and pinged his glass with a fork, then announced to one and all, that Andy’s baby had started to break the bonds of its cosy prison, and a new Priestly child was on the way. Everyone broke into a cheer, apart from two very shocked twelve-year-olds who went red in the face with fury.

“Do you mean she went off without us?”

“Andy and Mom left us behind? But we have to be there! Andy promised!” 

Hannah tried to console her nieces, “Yes, I’m sorry they couldn’t wait for you, because there wouldn’t be room for everyone in the car, and they had to go quickly. But Uncle Harry can take you over to the hospital just as soon as we’ve cleared up here.”

“But we’ll miss seeing our baby sister being born!”

“No, it will take hours and hours yet. Only on TV do babies normally come within minutes. But there is something you can do which will really help Andy now, and that is to help us gather up all these presents and load them into our trunk. Then I will make sure you get to the hospital in good time, I promise.”

The twins, who usually responded well to Hannah’s cool and friendly assertiveness, decided to co-operate and did as she asked. Meanwhile Douglas and Nigel managed gradually to disperse their increasingly tipsy guests, and Hannah organised a little house-keeping task-force to remove all traces of Andy’s little accident from the white carpet. 

When their wider circle of friends had disappeared, the closer family all sat down on Nigel’s comfortable sofas, and took stock. Andy’s Dad, who had waited stoically through the birth of his own five children and was already the grandfather of six little ones, still felt a rumble of anxiety, and Momma, for all her bravado, was very worried. 

Wasn’t this too early? Hadn’t Miranda said that April 5th was the due date, twenty days ahead? Andy was secretly her favorite grandchild, in fact her best beloved of the whole family apart from Jenny. She was her little soul-mate, and knowing what she was facing, filled Momma with fear. So she and Richard sat in silent solidarity with each other, not sure what to do next. 

Geoff on the other hand, remembered what a calm tower of strength Miranda had been to him and Cindy in those last dangerous hours before Spencer had been born by C-section two years before. His ex-wife would be great as a birthing attendant, he was sure, and he said as much to the others. 

He said there was nothing to worry about this time, anyway. Andy had no high blood-pressure issues and was fit as a fiddle. Everything would be fine. Miranda would make sure of that.

As the birthing party arrived at the hospital however, the reality was somewhat different. Andy had a pre-labour rush of adrenalin which enabled her to jump out of the car as soon as they drew up in the priority parking lot outside the main entrance, and she strode off purposely towards the revolving doors under her own steam, expecting Emily, her Mom and Miranda to be following her right behind. 

But as she parked the car and switched off the engine, Miranda suddenly had a full-blown panic attack, which surprised and un-nerved her just as much as it did Emily and Jenny. She couldn’t move and thought she would pass out. She’d felt the pounding in her ears and the thumping of her heart as she’d been at the wheel, but now she was paralysed with fear, and lost the ability even to speak.

“You follow Andy. I’ll take care here,” said Emily to Mrs Sachs, not really knowing though how she was going to cope with Miranda.

Jenny, who had seen Miranda suffer similar breakdowns before, reluctantly nodded, and said, “Follow us inside as soon as she’s ready. There’s no rush, I’m sure.” 

She then said, “Miranda, darling. Deep slow breaths, count to five, in and out, remember? You’ll be fine. Andy will be fine. She’s in good hands. But I’d better go and help check her in.”

Miranda still had her hands gripped on to the steering wheel. She felt nauseous as well as breathless, and wondered if she was going to pass out. Her face was as white as a sheet.

Emily who had been in the back seat, jumped out, opened the driver’s door and pulled her ex-boss bodily out of the driving seat. Miranda looked at her as if she was a complete stranger for a moment or two, then common sense penetrated the swirling mists of panic, and she began to come back into herself.

“Deep breaths, in and out,” said Emily, following Andy’s mom’s advice. She decided to act like a grown-up, and pulled Miranda’s slim shoulders towards her, giving her a proper hug, and rubbing her back, and miraculously Miranda allowed her to do it. 

In fact she clung to her like a drowning soul. Only once before, when Miranda had told Emily the truth about her sanctimonious father had they ever embraced like this, and then it had been Miranda who’d been doing all the comforting.

Miranda was simply grateful there was someone with her, someone who at least had a vague idea of what Andrea meant to her. Just as she’d been stricken on the morning of their wedding, overwhelmed with the immensity of her love for the girl, and her dependence on her for happiness, so she was now. 

She struggled to regain control, realising how pathetic it was that at the one time Andrea needed calm reassurance, she should be letting her down so badly, with a stupid, irrational panic attack. But she couldn’t help it, and she needed Emily’s support to act anything like a sensible person, let alone be a proper wife.

“Come with me, Miranda,” said Emily firmly. “Let’s go and get a coffee, while you settle. Then we can go and find Andy, and you can do the birthing partner thing you’ve been practising for all these months.”

Miranda nodded, but when they were sitting in the coffee-bar by the entrance foyer, and Emily had quickly fetched them a couple of coffees from the machine, she felt she had to confess.

“I haven’t been practising. That’s the point, I’ve been a complete wash-out on that front. I haven’t even been to many of the pre-natal partner coaching sessions with her. I was so tied up with Runway that I missed four sessions out of six. I was so arrogant, I assumed it would all come naturally, and I could just sit by her and give her sound advice. But look at me now, Emily. I haven’t even been able to make it as far as the elevator. If Jenny wasn’t here, Andy would be all alone. I’m a complete failure, and I feel such a fraud.”

“Andy seemed in control and OK anyway, so I won’t tell her, if you don’t. We’ll get up to the gyny unit in a few minutes, and then you’ll be back to being the Miranda Priestly she knows and loves. I kind of understand, anyway. If Serena was going into labour, I’m sure I’d be equally freaked out.”

“No you wouldn’t. You might be hysterical, Emily, but you would still be able to breathe, and you’d be there. You wouldn’t abandon her just when she needed you most.”

“So, finish your coffee, and let’s go up. Your colour’s come back and you look as beautiful as always. At this rate, you’ll have all the medics up there, male and female, being envious of Andy.”

“Emily Charlton! Are you flirting with me?” Miranda coughed, and caught her breath. She found she could breathe normally once more.

“Yes. Of course. You know you like it when people say nice things to you, and Andy won’t mind. She’ll be pleased I’ve cheered you up. Now are you ready to help Andy have your baby? It’s time we moved.”

Miranda, astonished at how far Emily had moved on from the panicky young assistant of three years before, nodded, and stood up. 

“Do you remember when we were last here?” she said, as they crossed the immense concourse of the hospital. “It was when Andy was mugged and had that bang on her head. I thought I’d die then…I was so worried. Maybe I’ve just had a flash-back.”

“Well, this time it’s different. No-one’s hurt. Andrea’s having a baby, that’s all. Come on. Chop-chop!”

And Emily escorted her celebrity companion through the crowds into the elevator. It was the first time in her life she had ever shared a ride with Miranda, and it definitely still felt weird. But by the time they reached the right floor, Miranda was back to normal, and swung out in front of her through the opening doors like her old, normal, arrogant self.

“Come along, Emily! Don’t dawdle!”

And Emily had to run to catch her up, a huge grin on her face. Now, the only problem to solve, where to find Andrea? 

Andy had marched into the hospital bravely enough, but as soon as she was faced with the bewildering number of signs her courage faltered and she waited for the others to catch up. Only her mother arrived, just behind her, and whispered, “Miranda’s having a bit of a moment. Don’t worry. She’ll join us soon.”

She asked directions to the gynaecology unit and led Andy towards the bank of elevators. 

“Are you still feeling OK? Would you like a wheel chair?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Andy replied. But by the time they had risen four floors and then taken a long walk down a corridor, she was beginning to wonder. When they reached the reception desk of the birthing area, she was doubled up with pain, and the nursing attendants quickly cottoned on, and led her straight into a private room with a bed. 

Jenny dealt with the paperwork and admin at the reception desk. Then she helped Andy take off her shoes and shed most of her clothes and lie down on the high bed. 

“A doctor will be in shortly to see how you are and assess the state of play,” said Jenny.

Andy was recovering from the contraction, and said, “Maybe we need to time them. I have actually been feeling smaller but similar pains to this all day. I thought they were those Braxton Hicks things you read about, but this was definitely intense.” 

She relaxed for a few moments, and then wondered why Miranda wasn’t there. 

“You said she was having a ‘moment’. Where is she, Mom? I need her here.” Then her whole belly was wracked with another contraction, and she struggled to breathe through it. 

The doctor appeared at that point, along with a midwife, and together they lifted her bed-sheet and gave Andy an examination to see how dilated her cervix was. 

“You’ve made it here just about in good time,” smiled the doctor, a pretty young woman, who seemed younger than Andy. “This baby’s well on its way.”

“The twins, the twins wanted to be here for the birth! I can’t go ahead without them. They’ll never forgive me!”

“It may be out of your hands,” said the midwife. “Now, what analgesics would you like?”

“Nothing which will affect how my baby feels,” said Andy feeling brave. But then she remembered how normally stoical Hannah had screamed and hollered during Johnny’s birth, and afterwards had said, “Whatever they offer, say yes! That’s my best advice.”

So she amended her answer to, “Well, what do you suggest, short of knocking me out completely?” And she watched as they went off to summon an anaesthetist.

Just then Miranda came into the ward, and ran over to the bed. Andrea was astonished to see huge tears threatening to spill out of those stormy blue eyes. 

“Hey? What’s this all about then? We’re having a baby, that’s all. Easy Peasy. And now you’re here, I’m just fine.”

She reached up and took Miranda’s hand and squeezed her fingers. Miranda sat on the bed next to her and gently moved her hair back from her face.

“I’m sorry, my love. I had a wobble, that’s all. But I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“What about Caroline and Cassidy? You know I promised I wouldn’t give birth without them.”

“I expect their father or Harry will bring them soon. But they are rather young for all this. Supposing it scares them, if you start screaming?”

“I won’t scream!”

“Don’t count on it. I screamed. I screamed a lot at the end. But then I did have to go through it twice in under an hour.”

“Yes, you did. You are amazing.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” then Andy’s face screwed up in pain.

“Holy Crap! That hurt!”

Jenny, who’d been timing the contractions, turned to Emily and said, “If Andy wants the twins here, maybe you should call Hannah and tell her to get a move on. Those contractions are at least every three minutes now.” And Emily went to make the call. 

The next few hours descended into a dark red tunnel for Andy as an injection of pethidine and a mask with some sort of inhalant took the top edge off her really violent labour pains. She heard the twins arrive in the outer room with Hannah and Harry, and vaguely gathered that people were coming and going, as she sweated and panted her way through labour.

Miranda, by now gowned up, held her hand throughout, and walked with her as the medics moved her into the final labour ward. It all seemed to be bright lights, the constant beeping of machines, one of which was attached by a little sticker onto her baby’s head as she began to slowly work her way through the birth canal. Giving birth in the hospital seemed very mechanical and electrical, but she knew this was going to be down to her in the end. This was her choice, and her responsibility. There was no turning back.

The final struggle to give birth did result in someone screaming. Andy suspected it was her, even though it seemed to come from outside herself. But then, even as she felt she was passing a melon, she heard that most wonderful of sounds in the whole world, the little cry of a new-born baby, and realised she done it! She’d had her baby! 

Miranda was handed the clippers to cut the cord, and snipped their little one’s last connection with Andy’s body. Then, the twins were allowed to come forward and watch in awe as she was wrapped in a white cotton cloth and placed on Andy’s chest. Miranda put her arms round all of them, and whispered, “Say hello to your sisters and your Mommy, Amelia. Welcome to the world.”

“She’s magical,” breathed Caroline, immediately falling deeply and irrevocably in love, and Cassidy gently touched the tiny fingers and said, “Hi, Amelia. Sorry about the red hair. But we’ll teach you how to cope with the teasing, don’t worry.”

Amelia, weighing eight and a half pounds, even though she was born nearly three weeks early, looked up at her family with unfocused but stunning blue eyes, a little quiff of ginger hair above her very red face. She looked like a boxer who had been through ten rounds, but, as Miranda said, she’d soon recover from the ordeal of being born, and turn pink and beautiful. 

Andy didn’t care. She simply cradled her baby daughter, and worshipped her. She had no words, simply looked up into Miranda’s eyes, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Miranda kissed her, and then tenderly kissed their little girl, their child born in the spring. She didn’t hope for, nor could she imagine, any greater joy.


	11. Bringing up baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia comes home, and meets the family.

“She’ll be sleeping in our room, at least to begin with,” said Miranda, hoping she was stating the obvious, as she and Cara sat at the kitchen table, planning Amelia’s imminent release from hospital. It was the morning after her birth, which had finally happened late the previous evening, and Miranda hoped that Andrea was able to catch some sleep in the hospital for a few hours and rebuild her energies. 

Although, knowing the heightened adrenalin and the general hurly-burly of a delivery suite she guessed that was probably unlikely. But she hadn’t called Andy yet, even though she had wanted to, from the moment she’d woken two hours earlier. Part of her wished she could have stayed at the hospital all night. 

She would go there later to bring her and the baby home. Roy had already installed a new infant car-seat into the Lexus for her, knowing it would be illegal to transport their baby anywhere without it, and the whole Ohio/California tribe of visitors were poised to descend on them later in the day as soon as she gave them the signal and allowed it. 

But Miranda was so fiercely protective of Andrea, she hardly wanted anyone to come, even their nearest and dearest, with their germs and their friendly banalities, to worship at the bedside of her girl and their little darling. And now she had Cara to deal with, as she’d known she would. 

Cara, who had quietly but relentlessly fought her for control of the twins’ regime every day until they had started kindergarten, showed all the signs of trying to take over again.

“You’ll want me to move in. I can do it. I’m all packed ready. Then the baby can sleep with me and Andy needn’t be disturbed.”

“Cara,” said Miranda, as firmly as she could, without dropping a pretence of trying to meet her halfway, “Listen to me, please. We want you here. We need you. You’re one of the family, and I know you did a wonderful job of raising the twins with me. But Andrea will be breastfeeding Amelia, and looking after her herself. She has longed for this moment, and she’s such a natural mother. Don’t turn this into a battle before she even comes home. There will be plenty of chances for you to have Amelia more under your wing in a few months.”

Cara, a very tall, masculine woman, married to a soldier who seemed permanently to be on overseas deployment, was Miranda’s age or thereabouts, and had never been able to have children. So she had poured all her maternal feelings and deep love of babies into the Priestly twins like a mother tiger, and the thought of a new infant to care for had increasingly enthralled her and dominated her thinking for many weeks now.

She and Miranda looked at each other, and neither blinked, but Miranda could tell Cara heard what she was saying. In effect it was, “Hands off Andrea’s baby or else. Don’t do to her what you tried to do to me for the first year of the twins’ life.”

They both remembered the battles then, which Cara had won more than she had lost, because twins physically needed there to be two people nursing, changing and feeding them, and Miranda had crawled back to work at Runway after a ridiculously few weeks’ maternity leave, having to effectively leave her in sole charge. 

Cara was perhaps the only woman in the world who Miranda didn’t want to get the wrong side of. She did genuinely trust her with her life and the life of her children. But Miranda was not going to let Cara bully Andrea like she’d bullied her. She morphed from Miranda the twins’ Mom, into Miranda, Dragon Queen of Runway. Her face grew as stony as marble and her voice dropped to a whisper. 

Cara looked down at the floor. 

“Do we understand each other?”

“I understand, Miranda. No worries.”

“Good.” 

So that was sorted, well, maybe.

Miranda had had enough battles for one morning, anyway. It had taken all her maternal psychic powers of persuasion to drive Caroline and Cassie off to school as though it was any normal Monday.

“You’re not sick. I haven’t called the school to get special dispensation. Andy and Amelia will be here at 4pm when you come home, and you can hold her then.”

“But Mom!”

“No, off to school as normal. Roy will take you this morning, as I won’t be needing him.”

“So you get to stay home from work? That’s not fair!”

“I think it’s eminently fair. I’ve started granting paternity leave of a whole week to staff at Runway, so I’m rightfully taking some myself. And I’m not a Pa, but a Ma. Besides, this household is not a democracy. I’ve decided that we wield power according to a points system based on our ages. I am fifty-two. You are both twelve. So even with your combined ages, I outrank you.”

Cassie knew her mother was playing ridiculous games with them. “But if we had Andy on our side…” she did a quick sum and her face fell. “We’d still only get to fifty points. So you win, Mom. That sucks. You’ve weighted the table against us.”

“For now, darling. Just for now. While you’re in the car with Roy, you might do the math, and work out how old you need to be to weight the table the other way, if we’re running a casino here.”

Cass didn’t need that much time. 

“By next year, we’re be thirteen and Andy will be twenty-seven! You’ll still only be fifty-three. We can catch you up in just a year and take over!”

Miranda realised just what a hole she’d dug for herself. Time to change the subject before things became completely out of hand. 

“Just be good girls and get on the way!”

So with gusty sighs and much rolling of the eyes, they went. 

There was a separate nursery upstairs, of course, beautifully decorated and exquisitely appointed with a closet full of miniature masterpieces of babywear, delightful handmade tiny outfits in organic cotton and the finest of soft cashmere and softest gauze. A bedroom for a fairy princess. Andy, Cara and the twins had all contributed to it, and had had a great deal of fun organising it.

But the room was mainly Miranda’s fantasy playground, for someone who’d been collecting fripperies like a little girl denied her own dolls and doll’s clothes as a child. Both Andy and the twins had openly laughed at her as she’d arrived home time and again with something else totally impractical, like tiny silk and gold slippers, gossamer fine dresses.

“I don’t care. Laugh all you like. Amelia and I will appreciate these even if you set of Philistines don’t.”

“Mom, she’ll probably grow up to be like Andy’s Momma, especially as she’s named after her,” said Caroline. 

“Yeah,” added Cassidy. “I reckon we could have a right little tom-boy on our hands.”

“Wait and see,” Miranda had replied, burying her face in the exquisite Irish lamb’s wool shawl which her McCarthy cousin Evelyn had sent them. “And even if she ends up in dungarees and baby Doc Martins, she’ll have these in her layette and she'll know she was very much loved and very much wanted.”

Hearing those words, Andy had embraced Miranda as closely as her bump would allow and kissed her fondly on the cheek, just above her mouth. She knew the fairy garments were all about Miranda’s lost childhood, which had still been buried under concrete slabs of frozen painful memories when she’d given birth to the twins. 

Then, her designer baby clothes had certainly been the height of fashion, and were also chosen for the efficient dressing of twins. But these little garments for their new baby, these were the outpourings of maternal love from a heart set free from its shackles, a heart which Andy felt beating against hers every night as they lay in bed together. 

They were also a silent statement which said, “We will both mother this baby. You have had the joy and pain of carrying her, but I will love her every bit as ardently as you will, and I will love and protect you both, my darling wife. So don’t separate us. Don’t shut me out, even a little.”

While Miranda was trying to maintain domestic order at home, tucked away safely in the hospital, Andy and Amelia were getting to know each other. As the baby lay on her breast, with the little rosebud lips firmly attached to her right nipple, and those amazing new-born blue eyes gazing up at her, Andrea could only marvel at the intensity of the passion she felt for this little scrap of a person. Amelia was the living proof of her and Miranda’s love for each other. 

Somehow, defying the constraints of biology, they had created a child who was the standard bearer for their marriage, and a witness to the world of how good such a marriage could be. They had a family in which to welcome her, but she would be the apple of their eye. Andy felt the milk which had engorged her breasts so quickly after the birth gently leave her body and nourish her child and the hardness and pain in her breasts began to soften and ease. 

Then she saw her phone vibrate with a silent ring on the side table beside her bed. She reached over with her free hand, and pressed the green button. 

“Hi, darling,” she said, the smile on her face more than evident in her voice. “When are you coming to take us home?”

And she settled down for a beautifully happy conversation with the woman she adored.

The first weeks of life for Amelia, as for any new-born, were a mixture of huge bouts of energy, and complete exhaustion. She gradually learned the difference between light and dark, between hunger (which she definitely didn’t like) and the wonderful sensation of a full tummy, and between the warm, sweet smell of her Mama, and the other equally gentle scent of her other Mommy.

After seven days, she could focus her eyes a little better, and she recognised different faces. She could feel the strength growing in her arms and legs, and practised her exercises, especially when she was dipped into the warm baths of water, and people laughed at her as she splashed about.

For the first days Andy had held her as close as a baby monkey, virtually all her waking moments, but gradually Miranda, the twins, and yes, Cara, as well as Jenny and Hannah, managed to prise them apart, and all claimed a share of the cuddling. 

It was an intensely feminine society into which she was born. But she had a father as well. And when she was three weeks old he came to visit her. Miranda had called Benjamin the night Amelia was born, and he had openly wept with the emotion of hearing the good news.

“But, darling, she’s early, isn’t she? I’m caught up in Paris with my new collection and can’t get away before June. I’m desolate!”

“Bunny, don’t fret. She’ll be still here in June, and you’ll be able to have a better idea of her then. Come and visit when she’s got used to the world and to us.”

“Can I bring Bruno?”

“Of course. Just let us know. But in the meantime…”

“What?” 

“Just be aware. I believe Amelia has inherited your good looks. She has the brightest blue eyes and a quiff of golden hair.”

“Oh, how nice of you to say that. But darling Miranda, that means she looks like you as well, more to the point! We’ll come over in three weeks. Give my love and congratulations to Andy. Isn’t she a wonder-woman?”

“She certainly is!”

And Miranda felt very happy how her little piece of biological engineering had worked out. It was more than she deserved.

The evening after Bunny and Bruno had visited, bringing in a further pile of extravagant gifts, and expressing just the right amount of awe and wonder at her new creation, Andrea sat on the couch resting in Miranda’s arms. She was letting Amelia enjoy her ten pm feed, while nestling herself against Miranda’s own breast as she felt her wife’s fingers gently run through and smooth down her hair. 

“It’s funny how intimidated grown men can be by a tiny baby,” she said quietly. “Bunny was certainly scared to death of dropping Amelia, when you let him take her.”

“It’s natural. He’s never held one before. But he’s such a gentle soul. He’ll be a quiet force for good in her life as she grows up. I think we chose well, didn’t we?”

“We did, darling. We did.”

“Bunny said his mother, the saintly Bridget, has also asked if she can come to see her grand-daughter.”

“What? The woman who claimed all homosexuality was of the devil? Who virtually disowned her own son and drove him into exile in France?”

“Yes. She has no rights in the matter, of course. But I think she’s mellowed somewhat. A baby can do that to the hardest of hearts.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“If she contacts us, I’ll see what she says. I won’t refuse out of hand, unless you say ‘No’.”

“No, I won’t do that. I’m so very, very happy in our little family, that I’m quite prepared to share the joy. I’ll trust to your judgement.”

“There’s another matter I want to run by you, to see what you think.”

“Hmm?”

Andy was uncoupling Amelia’s sweet little mouth from her right nipple and changing sides.

“It’s about Cara.”

“Don’t tell me! I never knew the woman was so hard to avoid. We keep falling over each other in the nursery, and as soon as Amelia’s lip quivers, she’s onto me like a ferocious Nanny. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, but didn’t know how to broach the subject.”

“Cara has far too much energy and thwarted maternal instinct not to be a pain. I did tell her as plainly as I could that you were to be in charge, and you’d ask her to help only if and when you needed her. But she won’t listen. But I have thought of a possible solution, and wondered what you think.”

“What?”

“How about asking Hannah if she’d like to bring Johnny here every day to share the nursery with Amelia while she’s at work at the UN building? I know she’s unhappy with leaving him in day-care with a dozen other babies every day, and Cara would give him the best care. That would take her attention off you and Amelia, and eventually the baby cousins could amuse each other. Heaven knows this house is big enough.”

“Miranda, you’re a genius! Hannah will love that! Would you really not mind? Johnny will be ten months soon, and is already crawling. Your lovely home…?”

“Hey, none of that. It’s both our lovely home, and we can easily make one or two more downstairs rooms child proof.”

“Well, I think it’s a splendid idea, and I’ll call Hannah tomorrow if you run the idea by Cara.” 

Andy snuggled back against Miranda on the couch, and closed her eyes. 

“Ready for bed, darling?” Miranda didn’t want her loved one to nod off on the sofa before she had the chance to make it up the stairs.

“Yes, I am,” Andy replied, “And I’m going to try Amelia in her own little cot in the nursery tonight. I can still run in quickly if we hear her cry on the baby monitor.”

Miranda pushed her gently upright, and then took Amelia from her. 

“You go and put on your PJs and get ready for bed then. I’ll change Amelia and wind her. Then we can retire. It will be the first chance for us to have a night alone since she was born, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

They climbed up the two flights of stairs together, and parted briefly on the landing. 

Andy turned and looked at their sleeping baby in Miranda’s arms.

“I love you, have I ever told you?” she whispered.

“Once or twice, maybe. Certainly not often enough.” Miranda’s smile held a Giaconda promise.

“Well, in that case… Wait for me in bed, and I’ll make up any deficit.”

At which point Amelia woke up, opened her little mouth and gave a very large burp. 

“No need to worry about bringing up the wind then”, laughed Miranda, and went off to change the last nappy of the day.


	12. Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a week before Christmas, and all through the house, Amelia scampers. She's hardly a mouse.

There was a big storm brewing. A depression which hung over the entire north-east of the USA was deepening by the minute, and the sky was iron grey with snow clouds. It was just a week or so until Christmas Day, and it might just might be a white one this year. 

Amelia Priestly-Sachs, aged twenty months and a bit, climbed up onto a chair placed in front of the big dining room window, and pressed her nose against the glass. She could see her reflection outlined against the shadows behind it, as well as all the twinkly lights of a huge green Christmas tree in the room at her back. This was her second Christmas, but the first one in which she could really take part and enjoy, and even though she couldn’t yet put into many words how she felt, a great sense of excitement, caught from everyone else in the house, filled her pretty little head. 

“What are you up to now, honey?” asked her Momma coming up behind her, and standing very close, with her arms round her waist, to form a frame around her in case she slipped off the velvet covered chair. She could feel the lovely smell of Mommy’s perfume, and felt safe inside her embrace.

“Mama,” said Amelia. This was a word she always managed. “And Cassie.”

“Yes, I’m waiting for them too, darling. Mama’s gone to collect Cassie from Math club. But Caroline’s here. Do you want to walk upstairs with me and tell her supper’s nearly ready? She’s been playing her cello for two hours now. It’s nearly six o’clock.”

Amelia nodded and slipped rather inelegantly off the chair. She put her hand up into Miranda’s, and pulled her towards the stairs, beginning a rather tricky climb up the long flight to the music practice room. Miranda watched her little fat legs struggle with the climb, and then, impatient as ever, swooped her into her arms and turned her upside down with a laugh, as she swung her over her shoulder in a fireman’s lift and made light work of the ascent. 

Amelia shrieked with happiness and the fun of being held upside down. Her Momma always surprised her like that, as well as talking to her like a grown-up. Amelia understood far more than she could articulate, and enjoyed all the things her Momma said to her, regardless of what they were, or whether she had much clue what was being told to her.

They made it to the top floor in record time, with Miranda using the weight of her toddler as a piece of impromptu fitness training. They then followed the sound of a Bach cello partita down the corridor and together went through the door of the music room. 

Caroline stopped in mid phrase and looked up, startled, but not unhappy to be interrupted. 

“We thought we’d surprise you, and coax you down for supper, darling. You’ve been practising hard for more than two hours. I would stop now, and take a rest if I were you.”

Caroline put her bow carefully on the ridge of her music stand and laid her cello against the nearby sofa. 

“I know, but with the end of term concert in three days...”

“You’re note perfect, and your mind and fingers have everything you need already. Come on my love, and distract your little sister while I finish the prep for supper.”

Caroline, slim, intense and growing more beautiful daily, nodded her head, and stood up. She stretched her back muscles and smiled at her mom. The legendary editor looked ridiculously young and relaxed. Chasing around after Amelia had knocked ten years off her in the last twenty months.

“Come to me, Mellie,” Caroline commanded and held out her arms, and Amelia, still held aloft over Miranda’s shoulders, giggled with joy, wriggled and took a flying leap towards Caroline, landing safely in her grasp, although Caroline’s knees buckled under the impact.

“Jeese Louise, she’s solid, Mom! What is Cara feeding her for lunch these days? Did you carry this weight all the way upstairs?”

“Yes. Amelia was waiting at the window for your sister and Andy, just like a little pup, like Tilly does, when people are out late. We missed you as well and thought we’d come to fetch you. And Andy and Cass still aren’t home. I’m concerned about the snow. Hannah, Johnny and Cara all left an hour ago.”

Caroline kissed her little sister, adorable in her outfit of corduroy pinafore dress, tights and little roll-neck top. She nuzzled her golden curls while looking across at her mother. “Well, it’s great to have you home early as well. Not the way it used to be, when we had to be re-introduced on Sundays.”

They walked back down the stairs together, to the kitchen. 

Miranda raised an eyebrow, but accepted the half-criticism. Her fourteen-year old twins had put up with so much when they were younger, sometimes hardly seeing her from Monday to Friday, but those days were thankfully long gone. 

Miranda reckoned these days she was making a good job of the nonsensical idea of creating a work-life balance, even though it went against her basic nature. Runway was still out there, her sadistic and never sleeping task-mistress, but her family was where her happiness lay. And she was so much better at switching off from worrying about the former, and simply enjoying the latter. 

“Put down our child and set the table for me, will you?”

“What are we eating?”

“Cara’s speciality meatballs and spaghetti animals. I’m making a quick winter salad to go with it.”

“Yum-yum,” said Amelia as she was set down on the floor, and they both laughed. Then they heard the door open from the basement staircase leading to their internal garage and the sound of animated conversation coming up through it. 

Miranda smiled, as she chopped up some endive and red cabbage. Her family was home, and safely together, even if the snow did start to fall and envelope the city before morning. 

Andy came straight through into the kitchen, blowing on her fingers, which looked red with cold. 

“The barometer’s dropping fast,” she said, unwinding her long blue scarf and taking off her coat. “You can almost smell snow in the air.”

When she saw them, Amelia’s face was wreathed with smiles, and she ran over to be hugged and kissed by both her Mama and big sister Cassie. She tried to hug them both at once, flinging her arms round their knees. Cassie bent down and tickled her, which always made her scream with excitement.

“Do you think they’ll close the schools tomorrow, if there’s a heavy fall?” asked Cassie “There was talk of it at Math Club.” 

“We’ll have to wait and see,” said Miranda. “But wash up and come to the table. Dinner’s ready. Cassie, please don’t overexcite your little sister. You’ll make her sick. Can you instead help her up into her high chair, and fasten her in?”

Andy went over to the kitchen French doors and pulled the warm drapes together against the black night outside. And as they all sat together round the steamy pot of meatballs and little pasta animals, they watched Amelia trying to wield her spoon with her usual lack of finesse. Andrea and Miranda exchanged a simple look which spoke volumes. They had each other’s day to share and unpack, and a heap of decisions which needed to be made, but for now their focus was on their three children, and them alone. The family animals, Tilly the dog, and Pumpkin the large orange cat, were both snoozing in front of the electric range.

Amelia picked up one of the spaghetti animals, a cat, observed it solemnly and then sucked it into her mouth.

“Bye-bye Pumps,” she announced, as clear as a bell, and appeared very puzzled when everyone else round the table fell about laughing. 

Four hours later, when the house was hushed and dark, and the snow was indeed tumbling down outside, from a black sky in great balls of white cotton-wool, Miranda and Andy were in their bedroom, preparing for bed. Miranda was sitting at her dressing table, doing what she had done every night for nearly forty years, removing every trace of make-up and brushing the hair lacquer out of her silver hair. 

Andy had taken a quick shower and was already in a cosy pair of velour pajamas. 

“Mellie is saying more words every day,” she said, “And she pretends to read the story books when we have our bedtime story. Do you think she’ll be as bright as the twins?”

“She might certainly be as wicked,” snorted Miranda. “I caught her trying to climb the Christmas tree this evening. It’s a dangerous age. We’ll have to watch her all the time, and do you realise she has learned to get out of her cot. I had to return her twice last night.”

“You’re wonderful with her. And you can second guess her more than I can.”

“I’ve been there before, don’t forget. Trying to stop the twins from killing themselves was good training.”

Then Miranda changed the subject. 

“Andrea, my love. Let’s talk about the holidays. Geoff and Cindy will collect the twins from December 26th and keep them right through to January 2nd. It’s their year. I wondered, how would you like us to take Amelia and go somewhere warm together for a winter break over New Year? I was wondering if we could find a flight down to St Thomas or the Caymans, for maybe five days. What do you think? You’ve been looking too thin and peaky recently, and she could do with a dose of Vitamin D.”

Andy came behind her and leaned over her shoulder to look critically at her own face in the dressing-table mirror.

“’Peaky? That’s a good old British expression. Yeah, I don’t look wonderful, but it’s mainly writer’s winter pallor. I’ve been turning up the pace on my word-count recently, that’s all as I’ve only a few more chapters to go. But I think a break will do us all good and it’s a wonderful idea. If I can extract you from Runway for all that time, your health will benefit as well, and I would love to see Amelia dip her darling little toes in the waters of the Caribbean.”

“Good. I’ll get the assistants to book the trip tomorrow.”

“Maybe we should have booked earlier. It will be very expensive.”

“Now stop that! Time with you and Mellie on a beach will be priceless.”

Andy was amused to hear Miranda slip into Amelia’s nickname, despite all her objections to everyone else calling her that.

“The twins will be madly jealous, you realise?”

“Oh, they have more than enough jaunts with their father. This will just be for you, me and Amelia.”

“Well, thank you. It’s a lovely idea. Now, come to bed, darling. Even if she sleeps through the night, we only have so many hours before our little princess will be crawling into bed with us, and I feel very selfish tonight. I need your undivided attention.”

Andrea pushed aside the edge of Miranda’s nightgown from the nape of her neck and dropped a kiss just below her hairline. She felt her lover’s whole body shiver in response, and so emboldened, pulled her upright to stand in front of her. 

Then she very cheekily put her hands between Miranda’s legs and tugged her backwards so she could feel every inch of her body shape against her. Miranda gave a little groan and acquiesced. Her head fell back against Andrea’s shoulder, and she allowed Andrea’s wicked hands to pull up her night gown and caress her naked breasts, and her slim belly below,

“Lovers first, and parents second,” whispered Andrea, walking her over to their enormous bed. And Miranda’s little moan confirmed to her that, however much they adored their children, that was how it would be between them, always. 

“Merry Christmas Miranda,” whispered Andrea much later, as they lay together in a tangle of limbs, letting their heartbeats settle. Miranda moved slightly under the weight of her young and so demanding wife, and all she could think to say, as her eyelids closed for the last time that evening, was, “and a Happy New Year, Andrea. Goodnight, darling.”

And the snow tumbled down, silencing even the great city of New York.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing all you lovely loyal readers a very Happy Christmas. Miranda and Andy will be back sometime in the New Year with a new story. In the meantime, if you would like to read more, non fan-fiction, stories, chase me up on Facebook. You can find Mill Girl hiding behind the name of MaggieMcIntyre Author.


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